Flawless: A Street Love Tale

by Jade Jones

  After parking his car, Desmond killed the engine and hopped out. He thought about grabbing his burner, but figured it was best not to. “Aye, bruh? Wassup?” Desmond asked, walking up on Cool.

  At the sound of his voice, Cool slowly turned around to face Desmond. Just the sight of the nigga who’d been fucking his baby mama made his skin crawl.

  Cool laughed softly before shaking his head. “This bitch really called this nigga though,” he said to himself. “I rather she called da pigs.”

  “Look, I ain’t tryin’ to get hostile tonight, man,” Desmond said in a non-confrontational tone. “Quite frankly, it ain’t none of my business what’chu got goin’ on. All I care about is Kimberlyn and her son. And they’re in there scared right now,” he explained. “So man to man, I’m askin’ you to fall back. Ain’t no police gotta get called, bruh. Just roll out.”

  All of a sudden, the front door to the house opened and out walked Kimberlyn. Now that Desmond was there she felt secure enough to exit.

  Cool laughed menacingly as he looked from Kim to Desmond. His glassy eyes were a result of cocaine and LSD. “This yo’ mufuckin’ cavalry?” he joked, throwing shade at Dez. “Bitch, I oughta kill you and this lame ass nigga.”

  “Cool, just leave,” Kimberlyn boldly spoke up.

  “Fuck you,” Cool spat. “If you wanna stay wit’ this buster that’s cool, but I ain’t goin’ nowhere without my son. And that’s straight up.”

  “He’s not your son,” Kimberlyn told him.

  Surprised by the news, Cool and Desmond looked up at her at the same time.

  “Fuck you just say?” Cool asked through clenched teeth. Tears pooled in his eyes as his worst realization manifested. It felt as if Kimberlyn had just snatched a rug from underneath him.

  “Jordan’s not your son,” she repeated with more authority. “He’s Desmond’s.”

  “What?” they said in unison.

  Tears slipped from her eyes as she looked over at Dez. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I swear I wanted to tell you when you came back in town…but I could never find the time…”

  That had been a secret that Kimberlyn planned on taking to her grave. But if Cool fucked around and got arrested that night, then he at least deserved to know.

  “Cool…,” Kimberlyn began. “I—”

  All of a sudden, he reached in his waistband and pulled out a strap. “You mothafucka!” he yelled, aiming at Desmond.

  Kimberlyn hopped off the porch and ran towards the love of her life. “NOOOO!” she screamed.

  POP!

  32

  The bullet intended for Desmond, struck Kimberlyn directly in the abdomen. The shot was enough to send her falling, but luckily Dez caught her on the way down. Together, they collapsed onto the ground.

  Kimberlyn was completely motionless as she lay sprawled out in his arms. Dark red blood poured from a dime-sized gunshot wound. If they didn’t get her to the hospital fast, there was no doubt she’d bleed out.

  “Fuck you standin’ there for?! GET HELP!” Desmond screamed. Tears dropped from his eyes as he thought about the possibility of losing her. He couldn’t. Not after knowing everything he knew. Not after falling in love with her a second time.

  Instead of doing something to save Kimberlyn’s life, Cool hopped in his car and peeled off.

  ***

  It was 9: 12 p.m. when Dana strutted in Fulton County’s Police Department. The wounds were still fresh on her neck, and she was ready to give a full testimony—even a little fabrication for good measures. Dana planned to air out everything, including the million dollar business Desmond cherished so much.

  I gave his ass ample time to get it together, she thought. Now his ass is gonna learn.

  ***

  Desmond’s bloodstained hands trembled as he held onto his steering wheel. Twenty minutes ago, Kimberlyn had been rushed into the ER and her fate was still on verdict.

  Instead of sitting around in the waiting room, Desmond decided to wait outside in his car. He always felt like people who waited in those waiting rooms were waiting on bad luck.

  She’s gonna make it, Desmond told himself. As bad as his nerves were, he refrained from firing up with his son in the backseat. Right now the five-year old needed him to have a clear conscience. Jordan was far too young to understand what was happening. And with Rita gone and Cool on the run, Desmond was all he had.

  Suddenly, Desmond’s cellphone rang. He was somewhat surprised when he saw it was Ava. “I hope she ain’t on dat bullshit ‘cuz now ain’t the time,” he said to himself.

  Going against his better judgment, Desmond went ahead and answered. “What, Ava?”

  “Desmond! You have to come quick! I’m so fucking!” she cried out, panic-stricken.

  “Hold up. Slow down, V. What’s goin’ on?”

  “I must’ve forgotten to lock up. It’s the warehouse!” she exclaimed. “I think we’ve been robbed!”

  “Fuck, V, damn, man! Look, I’m on my way!” Desmond didn’t even bother disconnecting the call before tossing his phone in the passenger seat. Putting the pedal to the metal, he flew towards Old Fourth Ward District.

  ***

  Jordan was fast asleep by the time Desmond arrived to the warehouse. Parking his car, he quickly hopped out and ran inside. Ava’s whip was parked not too far so he knew she was there as well.

  On his way inside, Desmond called up Romeo but got his voicemail instead.

  If it ain’t one thing it’s another, he thought.

  Desmond was totally caught off guard by the sight of Cool standing next to Ava. It didn’t take his mind long to realize he’d been set up.

  Desmond quickly reached for his piece, but Cool beat him to punch. “Nah, bruh. None of that,” he said, smiling wickedly. “Put ya heat down and kick it over to me.”

  Begrudgingly, Desmond did as he was instructed. Cool had been waiting for that moment, and Ava had finally blessed him with the opportunity for payback. Unfortunately, there was nothing more dangerous than two scorned lovers.

  “Damn, V. Like that, huh?” Desmond asked Ava. He couldn’t believe his own girl had turned on him. She was supposed to be fam, but now she was treating him like he was her worse enemy. It wasn’t even about the money. It was about her heart. And after fucking her, Desmond had stomped on it without the slightest consideration. Sadly, he would have to pay for the rejection with his life.

  “I made you a millionaire,” Ava reminded him. “And in turn you treated me like shit. So like you told me earlier…It’s nothing personal…” The devilish smirk on her face would forever haunt Desmond. He barely recognized her at that very moment.

  Desmond looked over at Cool in disgust. Had it not been for the gun he was holding, he would’ve broken the motherfucker’s jaw. “You just shot ya girl, bruh. She in da hospital right now fightin’ for her life.” Desmond’s voice trembled with emotion as he filled Cool in. He couldn’t believe the nigga cared more about him than his own girl.

  “Fuck that bitch,” Cool said, cocking the loaded gun. “She made her choice…now I’m makin’ mine…”

  POP!

  33

  Shayla wasn’t surprised when she found Romeo’s car parked at Club XTC. It seemed like whenever they fell out he went back to doing the same old shit. She wanted to be mad at him, but she knew if they had to make it work they had to communicate first.

  Inside, Shayla found Romeo chilling with a colorful section of girls. It was so obvious they missed their handsome boss. Eminem’s “Superman” poured through the club’s speakers. Shayla felt depressed just being in there, and she wished he’d just come home.

  Jealousy coursed through her blood as she approached Romeo. She was so fed up with the back and forth games. Either he wants me or not, she told herself.

  “Romeo, I need to talk to you,” Shayla said once she reached him.

  “I’m busy,” Romeo said, puffing on a blunt. He figured if he dissed Shayla she’d take the hint but she didn’t. Unlike most w
omen he dated, she didn’t back down easily. That was the main reason they bumped heads so often.

  “You mean to tell me the mother of your child can’t get two minutes?” Shayla asked, propping a hand on her hip.

  “If da lil’ mufucka even mine,” Romeo added cynically. He was really reaching and he knew it. His comment cut deep and Shayla quickly walked off in anger.

  The nerve of this nigga to think I’m trying to get over on his ass.

  Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked across the lot. She couldn’t believe she’d foolishly thought Romeo would change. Just as she reached in her purse for her car keys, her cellphone chimed indicating a text.

  Tears blurred Shayla’s vision as she pulled her iPhone out and attempted to read it. The text message was from Dexter:

  I tried to get over u…but I hated seeing you wit dat mufucka tonite. He ain’t for u and u know it babe. I wanna make it work still with us. I won’t forgive myself for letting you go, Shay. Hit me back.

  “Is it a full moon or something,” Shayla muttered, tossing her phone in her bag. Dexter was the last person she wanted to be bothered with.

  Hitting the automatic door unlock button, Shayla prepared to climb inside her Benz— Suddenly, a strong pair of arms snatched her up from behind. Placing a chloroform-soaked rag over her mouth, her captor quickly rendered her unconscious. The car keys uncontrollably slipped from her fingers as her entire body went limp. Shayla barely had a chance to put up a fight before she was tossed inside a dark trunk.

  Meanwhile inside the club, it didn’t take Romeo long to regret what he’d said. Fanning off his groupies, he ran outside to see if Shayla was still there. Damn, this girl got me tripping, he told himself. No woman had ever gotten under skin like her. One minute Romeo couldn’t stand her ass, and the next he couldn’t stand being away. Regardless of their differences though, it was no doubt that he loved Shayla. If he didn’t, he surely wouldn’t have gone after her stubborn ass.

  Strangely, when Romeo went outside, Shayla was nowhere in sight despite her car still parked.

  “The fuck?”

  Suspicions on high alert, Romeo reached for his piece and looked around frantically. Something didn’t feel right in the atmosphere. After noticing a small piece of paper under Shayla’s windshield wiper, Romeo jogged over to see what it was.

  Hastily scribbled on the note was a simple message: You got somethin’ we want, now we got somethin’ you want.

  After hearing tires screeching, Romeo looked up and noticed a boxed Chevy pulling out the lot. His heart instantly sank to the pit of his stomach after learning Shayla’s fate. It didn’t take long to realize his girl had been kidnapped for ransom. His worse fear had come to life.

  “SHAYLA!” Romeo screamed. The soles of his Timberlands, scraped the pavement as he took off after the car. “SHAYLA?!”

  “FLAWLESS 2” IS NOW AVAILABLE! CLICK HERE TO GET YOUR COPY!

  EXCERPT FROM “BACKPAGE”

  1

  “If you’re looking for someone to take your mind off the stress, call me…”

  Sweater Robinson sashayed across the bar/rooftop deck in a form-fitting leather Bodycon dress. Her cheetah print Louboutins grabbed the attention of every woman in the place, and her large, round ass grabbed the eye of every man.

  The half black, half white 5”5 beauty commanded attention whenever she walked into a place. Often told that she resembled songstress Mya, Sweater had an innocent but sultry look about her that both men and women alike found irresistible.

  The rhinestones glistened on Sweater’s two-inch stiletto nails as she held her iPhone against her ear. Her hazel eyes scanned the crowd filled with professionals and entrepreneurs from every business field.

  “Hello sweetheart,” Kenyon answered in a smooth, deep tone.

  “What are you wearing?” Sweater asked. Her gaze settled on a dark skinned, bald-head brother standing near the railing while nursing a Martini.

  “Flesh colored dress shirt and black slacks.”

  A smiled tugged at the corner of Sweater’s full, pouty lips. Without another word, she disconnected the call and sauntered towards Mr. Bald and Chocolate—also known as Kenyon.

  Kenyon’s eyes lit up the moment they saw Sweater. As expected she was everything her advertisement said she’d be and more. She looked a bit thicker in her photos but she’s still bad as hell, he thought to himself as he spread his arms for a hug.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Honey,” Kenyon greeted, addressing Sweater by her fake name.

  There was no way in hell she was going to broadcast her unique name to the public. As a matter of fact there was only a handful that knew her by her government. Yet she was the only one who knew the captivating story behind it.

  “You look even more handsome than I imagined,” Sweater lied. In her opinion, Kenyon looked more like a combination of Seal and Mike Tyson—but that didn’t matter since he was one of the best cosmetic surgeons in the Atlanta metropolitan area. His pockets easily made up for his lack of good looks, and he’d been nothing short of a gentleman since the very first phone call two nights ago.

  Kenyon explained that he simply needed a chaperone to make him look good for the evening, but Sweater was positive that before the night ended he’d be expecting some pussy. After all, that’s what the escort section of www.backpage.com was all about.

  If you weren’t an undercover cop looking to make a quick bust, you were a lonely individual in desperate need of attention and companionship. To most any type of warmth was better than being cold so clients dug into their bank accounts or fished in their wallets to pay for a spectacular evening with no limitations.

  “Thank you sweetie. I really appreciate that,” Kenyon said. “Would you like a drink or something?” He held up his martini to indicate if she’d like the same.

  Clearly he didn’t know Sweater because she would never be caught dead drinking that weak ass beverage. Much like her late mother she was a heavy alcoholic that spent most of her weekends binge drinking.

  “I’ll pass for now,” Sweater answered sweetly. “I wanna be sober and aware of everything I have planned for you tonight,” she purred in his ear.

  Kenyon’s dick jerked awake behind the thin fabric of his dress pants, but he tried his best to compose himself. “Is that right? Well let me finish this and we can go up to the room,” he said. He then turned his attention to Atlanta’s mesmerizing skyline. The beautiful lights and scenery made for a breathtaking view.

  Sweater joined Kenyon and took in the sight before her. In the six short years that she’d been living in Georgia she’d never seen its actual skyline from an overhead view. For two whole minutes her problems suddenly became nonexistent. Her dark past seemed irrelevant. And her insecurities seemed to disappear.

  “Beautiful isn’t it?” Kenyon asked, breaking the silence.

  “Most definitely,” Sweater agreed.

  Kenyon then focused his attention on the woman whose company he was paying handsomely for. “You from Atlanta?” he asked.

  “No,” Sweater answered, keeping her gaze on the city’s view. “I’m actually from California.” The lie left her lips before she could fully think it up. She was actually born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio and hadn’t visited the west coast a day in her life.

  Sweater was the epitome of the phrase “habitual liar”. She lied about any and everything, and was so used to doing it that she began to believe her own ridiculous fibs.

  Kenyon looked surprised by her answer. “California, really? That’s interesting,” he nodded his head in approval.

  “Yeah, I’m a west coast baby,” Sweater smiled. There was a faraway look in her eyes as she reminisced on a memory that never took place. “Sometimes I can still smell the ocean,” she said. “…Feel the sand in my toes…smell the palm trees. I miss the beach most of all. I can still remember my mom taking me and my sisters to Venice Beach for the first time. The sun was extra bright that day…it was one of the best da
ys of my life.”

  “Sounds memorable,” Kenyon said. “I’ve never been to California. Maybe if we get better acquainted we can go together and you could show me around. How does that sound?”

  There was as much chance of that happening as it was Sweater not telling another lie before the night ended. “Okay, I’m going to hold you to that,” she smiled. “Anyway it’s getting a little nifty out here. Don’t you agree?” Sweater rubbed her arms for good measure. It was in the late eighties but she basically needed an excuse to get Kenyon alone.

  “Alright, we can leave,” he agreed.

  After placing the empty martini glass on a nearby table, Sweater followed Kenyon back inside the luxurious five-star hotel. He didn’t bother spitting any lame ass game to let her know he wanted some since she already knew what was up.

  “Here we are,” Kenyon said once they reached room 1201. His hard dick strained against his pants as he envisioned all the freaky shit he planned on doing to Sweater. He hoped like hell her ad was right about her having no limitations, but if she did he didn’t plan on forcing her. He may have been a freak but he was also a reputable man.

  Sweater patiently waited for him to swipe his hotel keycard. Her palms began to sweat as anxiety washed over her.

  “Now before we go in just know that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Kenyon assured her. “I know you’re here for me but I want you to be equally as comfortable because I won’t feel comfortable if you don’t.”

  “I understand,” Sweater whispered, fidgeting with her clutch. She was a little bit nervous but she tried her best to appear calm. It was always that exact moment where her confidence melted away.

  “Good.”

  Kenyon stepped closer to Sweater, cupped her small face in his hands, and placed a light peck on her lips. “I’m a very passionate man…just so you know…”