On the Run with Love

by J. M. Benjamin

At the sound of the word “police,” Simone’s heart skipped a beat. “Where? What happened?” She was heading for panic mode. Now was not the time for her man to go to jail. She was prepared to run to the ends of the earth before she’d let Freddie get caught. “Do we have to leave?”

  “Naw, yo. The muthafuckas just took my money! All my shit!” he exclaimed angrily. He was so mad he might’ve cried.

  Simone kneeled down in front of him. “Baby, it could’ve been worse. We can get the money back. Besides”—she winked—“I got a little somethin’ put up.”

  Freddie looked into her smile like a new day had dawned.

  “I told you and I told you to save, so I just took my own advice. Instead of getting my hair done, I just did it myself,” she said, shrugging.

  He pulled her up onto his lap and hugged her tight, “Damn, you my heart, girl.”

  “But, Freddie,” she said, pulling back from the hug, “you can’t go back out there. Now they know your face.”

  He had surmised as much, but he wasn’t prepared for what Simone said next.

  “Let me go.”

  He couldn’t believe his ears. He looked up into her eyes and they were dead serious. “What?”

  “I said, let me go. Let me go out there. Nobody’ll bother me because they’ll know I work for you and Slug. And you can be somewhere close by but out of sight.”

  Damn. She a ride or die chick for real. “Naw, ma. I can’t let you do that,” Freddie said, head hanging.

  Simone put her hand under his chin and lifted it. “Well, I can’t let you go back out there,” and she was serious. Then she took a deep breath. “They say when it rains it pours, right? Well, right now it’s stormin’.” She tried to smile to lighten the mood.

  “No doubt,” he agreed.

  “No, I mean . . .” She stood up and walked to the stove, then turned back to Freddie. “Freddie, I got somethin’ to tell you.”

  He looked her in the face and didn’t need to hear any more; he already knew. Freddie hopped out of his chair, joyfully. “Say word!” All the Jersey in him came out then.

  Simone had been trying to figure out how to tell him all day. She didn’t know how he would take it because she didn’t know how she felt about it, so she planned a special evening and cooked a big dinner to break the news. Simone nodded slowly.

  “Hell, yeah!” Freddie exclaimed proudly and picked Simone up, spinning her around. “I’ma be a daddy!” He picked her up again and kissed her like he was trying to eat her up. After a moment she spoke up.

  “But, Freddie, with the way things are, do you think—”

  He cut her off, firmly but sweetly. “Don’t even think it, boo. I told you, regardless, we ain’t gonna let nothin’ stop us from living. And a baby? Yo, that’s what living is all about!” He held her tight, squeezing the tears out of her eyes. “I want you to have my son, Simone. Nothing in the world will make me happier.”

  She had needed to hear her man say just that. There was no way she wanted to have an abortion, and she didn’t know what she would have done if he had suggested it. But hearing him say what he said gave her the strength to be happy.

  “Thank you, Freddie,” she whispered through tears of joy. “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that.”

  He looked into her eyes. “You just take care of my little man. Let daddy worry about the rest.”

  “Okay, daddy,” she cooed like a woman in love.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Freddie told Slug about the police incident and he agreed with Simone. “Yo, cuz, Timmons and Jake ain’t no joke. Word up, if they said it, they meant it, and you can’t afford that shit.”

  But Slug agreed for his own reason. He thought that now Freddie would finally try to hit up a connect. Freddie had other plans. He rode out to the mall. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do but he knew what he was going for. He was dressed to kill, casual in a pair of beige Polo slacks, a black, beige, and brown Polo button-up, and a pair of black Clarks. He was wearing Pleasures for men and had his short curls groomed and shining. He finished off his outfit with a pair of oval Polo frames that gave him a studious and intelligent air.

  As he cruised through the mall, looking for a victim, he tried to tell himself that this was going to be a one-time thing, just to get him over the hump. But like an alcoholic deciding to have just one drink, he knew what he was doing was dangerous.

  Smiling and flirting, holding doors open and warmly greeting each female’s face made him think of Simone, and the guilt weighed heavily on his back. He thought of their unborn child growing in her womb and the promise he’d made to be true. Still, he tried to convince himself that this was for her, that he was only looking for a woman to seduce and juice for their growing family. He finally found one at the perfume counter in Belk. She was a white woman with blond hair who looked as if she might be in her early forties. He peeped the ring confirming that she was married, and he eyed the platinum Visa confirming that she was also paid.

  “Excuse me,” Freddie said, approaching the counter, “I noticed that you just purchased White Diamonds by Liz Taylor. I love that fragrance.” He smiled.

  The woman looked up into his green eyes and smiled back. “Oh, it’s not for me. It’s a birthday gift for my sister,” she responded.

  “What a coincidence, it’s my mother’s birthday.” Freddie chuckled. “But the problem is, she hates White Diamonds. So, um, I was wondering”—he began to lick his lips and made the woman watch his tongue—“if maybe you could help me pick out a nice fragrance for her.”

  The lady giggled. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m really not an expert or anything. I just know what I like.”

  “But you have such good taste,” Freddie said. He gently placed his hand on hers and felt a slight tremble run up her arm. “Please.”

  “Well . . .” She thought about it. “Maybe just for a minute.”

  Freddie eyed her closely from head to toe. She was dressed conservatively, but everything she wore was expensive. Her silk blouse clung to her ample bosom and her skirt hugged her petite waist. She stood about five feet three inches but her heels made her taller.

  “What about this?” she asked, showing him a bottle of Sung by Alfred Sung. She sprayed a little into the air.

  “I can’t tell, uh . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name.”

  “Cynthia.”

  “I’m Freddie, and I think I could decide better if you sprayed it here.” Freddie took the bottle and sprayed a little on the inside of her wrist. Then he gently lifted her arm to his nose, making sure his lips brushed across her flesh ever so gently. He could hear the faint sigh in her throat.

  “No, that’s a little racy for Mama. That’s more of an evening out on the town.” Freddie picked up a bottle of J-Lo. “What about this?”

  Cynthia looked at the bottle. “J-Lo. I’ve never heard of that.”

  “No?” Freddie fronted like he was surprised. “J-Lo is short for Jennifer Lopez. She’s a very beautiful Latina singer/actress who is known to be very hot, very sensual. In fact, if I may . . .” He raised the bottle and sprayed a little on her neck, making her eyelids flutter. “May I?” Freddie flashed a charismatic smile.

  Cynthia could only nod.

  He leaned in close to her ear so his words could be felt. “Now this reminds me of red: red roses, red wine, red satin sheets, and sexy red toenails in sexy red six-inch stilettos.”

  Cynthia’s pink erect nipples pressed against the silk of her blouse like a child pressing his or her face to the glass of a candy store, licking his or her lips.

  Freddie pulled away and shrugged. “Definitely not a mommy fragrance. Maybe I should just get her a wok,” he joked and Cynthia giggled.

  “Thank you so much for your time, Cynthia.” He shook her hand, running a finger across her palm and causing her to reflexively grip his hand as the sensation ran up her spine.

  “No . . . no problem, umm, Freddie,” she replied, slightly hoar
se.

  “How can I make it up to you?” He was still holding her hand.

  “Oh, there’s no—”

  He gently cut her off. “No, there is, because it would break my heart to see you walk away.”

  It was a wrap. It didn’t take much to convince the well-off, lonely housewife to drive around the corner and meet Freddie at the Irish Inn, a seedy, secluded motel that fit Cynthia’s fantasy of taboo.

  Once inside the room, Freddie wasted no time putting his mack down on the squareness of Cynthia’s naiveté. He pinned her against the door, snatching her skirt up to her hips, pushing past her panties, and shoving three fingers inside her warm pinkness.

  “Is this how you want it, huh? You want that thug shit, don’t you?” Freddie woofed and Cynthia was loving it.

  “Oh, yes! Yes!” She tried to kiss him but he turned away.

  “I got something for you to kiss,” he told her, snatching his manhood out of his pants and pushing her down on her knees. He slid the whole length into her mouth, pumping in and out, sexing her face.

  “Damn! You a nasty bitch, ain’t you? Ain’t you?” Freddie accosted her. The only reply was the gagging in her throat. He didn’t even try to hold back. He came in her mouth and watched it spill out and run down her chin. He lifted her off her knees, took her to the bed, and pushed her down onto it.

  “What are you gonna do to me, Freddie?” Cynthia panted, unbuttoning her blouse and exposing her pale, white breasts and pink nipples.

  “Did I tell you to speak?”

  “No,” Cynthia stuttered in mortal fear, but she was getting more turned on by the minute by the huge black dick that was in her face.

  Freddie slid on a condom, cocked her legs back until her knees damn near touched her shoulders, and entered her with the force of a jackhammer. The pain and pleasure made Cynthia scream out and cum instantly, clawing Freddie’s shirt. She broke a nail.

  “Oh, my God!” she squealed, trying to squirm away from the incessant pounding. She felt herself coming a second time. “Oh, Freddie, not again!” she moaned as her juices flowed, soaking the bed beneath her ass.

  Freddie abruptly pulled out and stood back.

  “Fr . . . Freddie, why did you stop?” she huffed.

  “You want this dick? Crawl to it. Crawl to this dick,” he commanded, and she slid off the bed onto the floor on all fours as Freddie backed away gradually.

  “Oh, please, Freddie. Come—”

  “Crawl yo’ pink ass to this dick!” Freddie repeated emphatically until his back was against the wall between the bed and the bathroom. She was all over him like a woman possessed, dragging him down to the floor and squatting on top of him. She rode him furiously, taking all of him inside of her. Freddie sat back and watched her go crazy, smiling.

  “Don’t cum in the condom, Freddie. Cum in my mouth again, cum in—”

  She felt him building up and hopped off his dick. She snatched the rubber off and let it explode all over her face. She licked her lips as if it were whipped cream.

  After they showered together and redressed, Freddie closed the deal.

  “Freddie, I can’t give you my home number, but this is my cell number. Will you use it, please?” Cynthia asked, wrapping her arms and one leg around him.

  “I can’t. I don’t know, ma. You see . . .” He sighed. “I feel so embarrassed telling you this.”

  “What?” she asked with a concern born of lust.

  “I may have to leave town.”

  “No!” She gasped.

  “I got, like, this gambling habit, and I owe a few guys a lot of money. They’ve been all over me and if I don’t pay soon . . .” Freddie shook his head then kissed her forehead. “So if I never see you again, Cynthia, I’ll—”

  “But, Freddie, how much do you owe them?”

  He should have been an actor. Denzel didn’t have a better method. “I don’t know, like, three Gs.”

  “Gs?” she asked, confused.

  “I’m sorry, three thousand. Three thousand dollars,” he replied in sheer defeat.

  “Freddie, that’s a lot of money.” Her eyes widened. “And besides, we just met,” she pointed out.

  “I know, I know. And believe me, I hate even coming at you like this. Now you see why I have to leave.”

  All she had to hear was the word “leave.” She couldn’t imagine losing the lover of a lifetime. “I . . . I can give it to you.”

  Freddie looked at her and had to hide his laughter. “Cynthia, I hardly know you. I can’t.”

  “But if you leave, I’ll never be able to get to know you.”

  “Oh, Cynthia!” he exclaimed, hugging her and smirking behind her back. “Thank you so much, sooo much! I promise I’ll pay you back as soon as I can!”

  “Pay me back now,” she said, and pushed him back toward the bed, fire burning in her eyes. She felt that her husband’s money had never been so well spent.

  Early That Next Morning

  Freddie lay in the waterbed next to Simone, staring at himself in the overhead mirror. Nigga, you ain’t shit, he thought. He had brought the three Gs home and told Simone he had won it gambling, a boldfaced lie that just rolled off his tongue like ice water. Once again, he had broken his promise to Simone. She lay snuggled up under him, safe and content.

  Freddie felt like he had done what he had to do. If he wasn’t shit, so be it, but the bills were paid, their stomachs were full, and both of them had new outfits. Freddie thought of Cynthia. He could see that she would get crazy the more he sexed her and played mind games with her. Her hormones had been bottled up too long, and now that they had been released, shit could get out of control.

  But if not her, who? he wondered, knowing he wouldn’t stop until he found a worthy candidate. It would take months to build his stable up like he had back in New Jersey, and Goldsboro was entirely too small for that type of mack. Naw, he had to keep his circle small, real small. One. Gina. If he was gonna play, Gina killed two birds with one nut. It was time to give Slug the connect he’d been begging for. Why not? He couldn’t resist who he was, what he was. He loved Simone, but he loved himself at the same time. Only time would tell who he loved more.

  Freddie swung his feet out of bed. Simone instantly missed his warmth and stirred. “Go back to sleep, boo,” he said, and she did. He threw on his pants and a T-shirt, and slid his bare feet into a pair of construction Timbs. He left the apartment and crossed the deserted street to the phone booth in front of Piggly Wiggly. He dialed the number he knew by heart. The phone rang, and rang again, and again, and again.

  “Freddie, this better not be you,” Gina’s sleepy voice warned when she picked up the phone.

  He wasn’t surprised that she knew it was him. Whether it was the caller ID or the late hour, Gina was always on point. “Yeah, ma. This me,” Freddie confirmed.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Nigga, what you want? I ain’t heard from you in damn near three fuckin’ months! I didn’t know if you were dead, alive, where your ass was at, if you were okay . . .” She caught her breath, glad to hear from him and, at the same time, releasing three months’ worth of stress and frustration. “So I know you want something, callin’ here three in the mornin’. What? You had to wait until that little bitch went to sleep?” she barked. She had never called Simone a bitch before, so he knew she was heated. “What do you want, Freddie?” she demanded.

  “I just called to see how you were doin’, yo.” He tried to sound casual.

  Gina laughed in his face. “Nigga, fuck you for thinkin’ I’m some lame-ass trick! Matter of fact, good—”

  “A’ight, a’ight, Gina. I don’t want anything. I need to see you.”

  There was silence.

  “Gina? You hear me, ma?” he asked, his heart sinking thinking Gina was too through with him.

  “I heard you. Just gimme one reason why I shouldn’t hang up in your face.”

  This time he was silent.

  �
�Uh-huh, just what I thought,” Gina declared. “You know you ain’t shit, don’t you, Freddie?”

  “I am what I am.”

  “What you are is a no-good little boy wit’ some good community dick. And if I decide to see you, it’s because I know it’s killin’ you to know that there’s somebody who knows you for who you truly are, who you can’t fool, who you ain’t slicker than.” She laughed. Freddie couldn’t do anything but accept the painful truth.

  “I’ll call you when I get to Raleigh,” she said, then abruptly hung up.

  Chapter Twenty

  Freddie sat in the Blue Note bar tossing back top shelf Rémy while contemplating his next move. He was still gloating about the fact that soon he would be seeing Gina. She was one of the few things he had missed about being back up North. When he was out ripping and running in the streets, seeing her name randomly appear across his phone’s screen was always a highlight and reward for how hard he really played. Gina was something special he knew. She was the only one who ever made him question or doubt how solid his love really was for Simone. She was the type of woman who would make any man want to do better. He knew he had to at least appear to be on top of his game when Gina came down. The last thing he wanted her to see was him looking like he had fallen off. She had seen him one way and one way only: fresh to death at all times. Out of all the times in the world, when he had gone to Slug for some extra cash to set it out for her, he had discovered that Slug had already flipped what they had hustled up throughout the week. Financially, his options were limited. He actually only had one option. Against his better judgment, he pulled out his phone and texted Cynthia. Her immediate response and answer caused a huge smile to appear on his mug.

  * * *

  An hour after she’d received the text, Cynthia pulled across the street from the place Freddie had texted her the address to and parked. Although she was from the area, she had never before been in the particular part of the city where the local bar was located. She sat nervously in her silver Mercedes-Benz truck, waiting for Freddie to come out as she peered out of all mirrors. Every time she saw a black face walk passed her SUV, her heart skipped a beat. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, out came Freddie. She watched as he slightly staggered out of the hole-in-the-wall establishment.