Gods & Gangsters 2

by SLMN

“I know, but still… It don’t make it any easier, you know?”

  Mona sighed, kissed him on the cheek and told him, “You’ll find someone Cassio, I know you will. Just stop running those streets and give her a chance to find you.”

  “I already found her, ma, ain’t gonna find her twice,” Cash replied.

  Mona fought back tears.

  As Mac drove, Othello sat back, hitting a blunt.

  “It was real good to see Kat. Hell, I ain’t thought about shortie in years,” Othello said, deep in the reminiscence.

  “No doubt. First time I saw her I couldn’t help think about that time you smashed her, then a few weeks later, Cash was fuckin’ her too! That shit was crazy!”

  Mac chuckled.

  Othello’s brow furled subtly, he’d put it out of his mind, but it was there, locked up in his mind, and had been ever since the time Mac had brought up. Truth was, Othello had never gotten over the feeling he had seeing Kat with Cash that night. It was like a razor to the nuts, opened him up and everything he felt about love unraveled like bloody yo-yo's. It wasn’t like she was his girl, but she might have been, and there was a code: he’d always believed that homeboys shouldn’t fuck the same bitch out of a gangbang situation. He had never confronted Cash about it, but it went right to the root of his insecurity. It only added to his sense of inferiority, side-by-side with Cash. Cash was the big dick, pretty boy, and what was he? The big, black ugly nigga with the smarts.

  Mac knew his dude well enough to know it was a deep scar. He was no mug. That was the only reason he’d wanted Othello to see her again. It was all about dredging up all those old useless feelings so that they could get put to a better use in the here and now.

  Mac glanced over at Othello, a sly smirk stealing across his lips.

  “Let me find out you in your feelings still about that hood rat.”

  “Fuck outta here, yo,” Othello denied, passing him the blunt. “I wasn’t in my feelings then, shit just caught me off guard.”

  “I feel you. But shit, we grown ass men now, ain’t no way that would happen again. That thing that bonds us, thicker than blood.”

  “No doubt.”

  Cash watched the girls go through their routine.

  It was a hip hop-classical music fusion, where they got to do all of their favorite hip hop dance moves, then morph into a more graceful ballet. Surprisingly, it was a good show, and when they were finished, he found himself clapping for them.

  “Ay yo, y’all make me want to get my groove on,” Cash joked, doing a mock of a pirouette. He was not graceful.

  The girls cracked up, including Mona.

  “They’re chasing their dreams. I bet you had a dream when you were little,” Mona commented.

  “I was never little,” Cash quipped, with a knowing wink.

  Mona couldn’t help but blush. “Younger.”

  Cash shrugged.

  “Yeah, I wanted to play baseball.”

  “I didn’t know you were a baseball fan,” Mona said, not quite able to mask the surprise in her voice.

  “Go Yankees,” he replied.

  She sucked her teeth.

  “Let me rephrase that: I didn’t know you weren’t a baseball fan.”

  They laughed.

  “If it ain’t Boston, why bother?”

  Mona chuckled.

  “Traitor.”

  They were enjoying each other’s company so much, that when Cash glanced at his watch and saw it was 3:05 he felt like Cinderella at 11:59, knowing his carriage was gonna turn into a pumpkin and the whole charade was going to Hell.

  “I have to go, yo. Make sure you handle that for me. I owe you, ma,” Cash said, as he headed for the door.

  “Oh,” Mona began, confused by his abrupt departure, “Okay. I will. See you ‘round, Cash.”

  He was out of the room before she finished her sentence. He high stepped down the hall, checking his watch twice more before reaching the front. The receptionist smiled sweetly, but when he didn’t return it, she said, “Umm, excuse me.”

  He stopped, halfway out the door, turned and replied, “Yeah?”

  “I-uh usually don’t do this, but...” she said, then slid him a piece of paper, looked him in his eyes like a grown woman, and added, “That’s my number. Why don’t you use it?”

  Too flustered to deny or reply, he simply took the number and walked out.

  He was so intent on leaving, he didn’t look right or left in traffic, he just bugged out.

  Had he done so, he would’ve seen Mac’s car coming down the street.

  “You see that? Wasn’t that Cash bugging out of Mona’s theater?” Mac asked, squinting at Cash’s car as it merged into traffic.

  Othello looked, following the direction of his gaze.

  Nice and sleazy does it. Every time.

  “Yeah… yeah that’s his car right there making a right,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of indignation, still half living in the past and old transgressions.

  The timing was perfect. Seriously could not have been better.

  “Oh,” Mac said.

  It was a simple expression, not even a word. But, the way he said it—the inflection he put into it—as though implying much more, caught Othello’s ear.

  “Oh? What you mean, oh, nigga?” Othello questioned, the growl in his voice the rumble of a coming storm.

  “Nothing, man.”

  “Naw yo, why you say it like that? What you tryin’ to make me think?”

  “Like what?” Mac asked, feigning innocent ignorance.

  “Lil’ brah, I ain’t no fuckin’ fool, that came out your mouth like pure surprise and like it was something so wrong, so now you got me thinking why?” Othello questioned.

  Mac chuckled. “Big brah, you ain’t makin’ no sense.”

  Mac’s chuckle rubbed Othello the wrong way. “Something funny?”

  “O, you’re reading way too much into this,” Mac countered, soberly.

  Othello thought for a minute.

  “I’ma call him.”

  He began to reach for his phone until Mac said, “For what? If it wasn’t him, he gonna think you on some bullshit, like you don’t trust him and he wasn’t even there. But if it was him, he ain’t gonna tell you anyway if he on some bullshit, feel me? He’ll just say it’s all good,” Mac reasoned.

  Othello thought about a moment, seeing the logic in Mac’s reasoning, and nodded wordlessly.

  Mac saw that he had him, so he continued.

  “This what you do. Go in, don’t mention it, don’t say anything about it. If it was Cash, and there’s no big secret, Mona will be all, ‘Oh you just missed Cassio,’ see? But, if she don’t say anything, well then…” Mac let his voice trail off, allowing Othello’s jealous imagination to go where it would.

  “Then what?”

  “Big brah then it’s… still probably nothing.”

  Mac was a master of the meaningful pauses, leaving just enough room for the shred of doubt, and once doubt got its nasty little teeth into a man, that fool will do anything to get out of it, but first they gonna speculate. And speculating just feeds the beast.

  Othello, eating his line of reasoning hook, line and sinker, nodded.

  “Yeah, I feel you, Mac. Good look, yo. I was about to flip.”

  “Hey, what are friends for?”

  When they got inside, Mona and the kids were practicing the routine, going through the drill. He could smell young sweat. She had the girls looking good, and Othello couldn’t help but admire her shapely curves in the tight leotard she wore. He even smiled a bit, thinking he was hot for teacher. Then his mind overheated, because he thought about Cash having just seen the same thing.

  She smiled at him as she danced, but her smile looked distorted in his clouding mind.

  What does she think, I am a fool? Her smile that used to light the sky, seems to be laughing at me, mocking me and shit! I knew it was too good to be true. A woman that beautiful, that smart and articulate, to truly love an u
gly muhfucka like me. Sure, I pull bad bitches, but it’s my money, my swag, my gangsta style, but they never really love me! Cash… Cash is what women really want. His looks, his style, his… I don’t even want to think about it, Othello fumed to himself, struggling to maintain his composure as Mona came over and gave him a welcoming kiss.

  “Hey baby,” she chimed happily.

  Did she say the same thing to Cash?

  It was a dark thought.

  “What’s good, beautiful? I see you’ve got the girls looking good,” Othello mentioned, giving the little ones a nod.

  “What’s up, Mona?” Mac greeted.

  “Hi Mac,” she replied, then added, “I can’t wait for the show.”

  “How has your day been, love?” Othello questioned, subtle, giving her the chance to come out about Cash.

  There was no way he could know about the conflict of reason running through her mind as she looked into his eyes: If I tell him Cash came by, then when I speak to him about giving Cash the connect, he’s gonna know it was Cash that asked the favor. I want to help Cash. It’s the least I can do, but I can’t do that if Othello knows I’m trying to help. He’s gonna feel played. A man always hates when a woman tries and tells him what to do, so I gotta do what all women do: make him think it was his idea.

  Mona said, “Nothing exciting, just been rehearsing all day. How about you?”

  Othello looked at Mac out of the corner of his eye.

  It took everything in him not to ask her about Cash’s black ass. “Not… much. Listen, Me and Mac have to go handle something. I’ll see you when you get home.”

  “Okay bae,” she smiled, then kissed him again, giving him that look, adding, “Thanks for dropping by. I’ll be home first, so I’ll make sure I’m naked when you get there.”

  It should have been the sexiest thought in the world, but her flirtation only served to make his anger turn crimson.

  He mustered a chuckle.

  “Yeah.”

  His response threw her off, but she let it go and went back to rehearsal, clapping her hands as she bounced back to the little dance stage.

  They watched a second longer as the kids picked up their moves, then hustled out.

  Back on the street, Othello slammed the door as he got into the car, fuming.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  It was Mac that broke the silence, appeasing, “It probably wasn’t him.”

  Othello looked at him skeptically.

  “O, I’m tellin’ you, Cash would never slink away like that because he saw us coming.”

  The word slink stuck in Othello’s mind. It was a cold word. Spoke of treachery.

  “You’re reading too much into this,” Mac insisted.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yeah you are. I know you, O. I know how you get about bitches, I mean, females.”

  “Bitches, you had it right. All women have bitch in ‘em. Period. They go to bed to work and get up to play. Don’t get it twisted, I may love Mona, but my eyes are as open as my nose,” Othello assured him.

  “I feel you. So just watch them, watch her, and see how she move, how he move, feel me? If it’s anything going on, you’ll know. Trust me,” Mac laid it out there.

  Othello nodded.

  “Yo, on some real shit, Mac, you my man. You always keep it real. If you wouldn’t have been here, I probably woulda played myself, yo.”

  They shook hands.

  “Fam, you already know. I got your back,” he winked.

  Mac knew he wouldn’t have to worry about Cash getting the connect for a few more days, which gave him time to make sure he never got it at all.

  Othello walked into his apartment.

  The smell of his favorite meal, fried chicken and macaroni and cheese, filled his nostrils. It was heavenly. The kind of meal men asked for when the warden asked them to fill in the ticket for their last meal.

  Mona came walking out of the kitchen wearing only a chef ’s apron and red bottoms.

  “So what do you want first, dinner or...” she purred, untying the apron and letting it fall to the floor so that her goddess-shaped body was on full display, “...dessert.”

  No matter how mad he was, Mona’s magnetism always brought his anger to its knees.

  She kissed him deeply, unbuckling his pants with desperate fingers, then dropped down, her legs spread like eagle wings, and took him into her mouth. She bobbed, taking him deep into her throat. No gag reflex. She used her hands to massage his balls while she deep-throated him, bringing him to the edge of ecstasy before getting up.

  She smiled at him, his precum wet across her smile.

  God what a sight.

  Othello picked her up.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

  He spread her ass cheeks, sliding two fingers in her ass as his dick slipped inside of her. She began to ride him hard and steady. The fingers in her ass driving her crazy, making her go buck on his dick. This was no old married sex. This was still hot fucking.

  “Ohhhh Daddy, right there, right there!” She squealed, kissing him on the neck and sucking his earlobe as he pounded her pussy like he was grudge-fucking her, taking out all the frustrations and suspicions of his imagination on her pussy.

  And she loved every stroke.

  “I-I-I’m about to cum!” she gasped, then she did, all over his dick, juddering and shuddering in his arms.

  Feeling her wet juices running down his thigh, Othello couldn’t last much longer. He stroked it, pushing in hard, all the way up into her, and came.

  “I love you, you know that?” Mona stated, looking him in the eyes.

  I hope you do. He thought.

  “I love you, too. You ready for dinner now?”

  “Maybe a little more dessert first?” she replied, going down onto the carpet and spreading wide. He dropped to his knees and feasted on her juices…

  As they ate, Mona watched him gobble down her cooking.

  “Damn ma, you know I love your mac and cheese,” Othello garbled, between bites.

  “Like you needed another reason to love me,” she teased.

  Othello laughed.

  “O.”

  He looked up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you given any more thought to retiring? I mean, like, what you’re going to do?” Mona probed.

  Othello wiped his mouth and shrugged.

  “Not really. A lot has to happen between now and then.”

  “You know, I was thinking about it… I watched my Daddy all my life, and you remind me a lot of him. How he moves.”

  “Yeah. How so?”

  “You’re loyal to family, which is good. Plus, you can see seven steps ahead of everybody else.”

  Othello shrugged.

  “It comes natural.”

  “You know who else reminds me of you and my father?”

  “Who?”

  “Cash.”

  His ears perked up, right along with that spike in his jealousy, but he held his composure. “Oh yeah? Pretty boy? You think so?”

  Mona nodded, taking a forkful of mac and cheese. “He’s sharp.”

  “Sharp don’t mean shit in the game,” Othello countered.

  Mona looked confused.

  “You have to be sharp.”

  “With the chicks maybe.”

  “I’m not talking about that kind of sharp.”

  “You sure?” Othello quipped.

  Mona stopped eating and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Come on Mo, don’t tell me you don’t think Cash look good,” Othello shot back.

  “What’s that got to do with what we were talking about?”

  “Everything. Just answer the question,” Othello urged.

  Mona shook her head.

  “For what?”

  “I just want to know. Do you think Cash look good?”

  “Forget I brought it up,” she waved him off, then picked up her plate and took
it to the sink. Othello’s worse fear was racing on towards confirmation.

  “Yeah, you think he look good.”

  Mona spun around.

  “Okay, yes, sure. Cash is attractive. It don’t mean nothing in the scheme of things.”

  “Fine.”

  “Othello, you’re tripping.”

  “Because you’re making a big deal out of nothing, yo. Aight tell me this. What’s your number?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. How many people have you had sex with in your life?” He questioned.

  “I can’t believe you asked me that,” Mona shot back.

  “It’s just a question. We’re open with one another, right? I ain’t got nothing to hide, ask me, I’m an open book.”

  Oh my God, did Cash tell him about that night? Is that why Othello is tripping on Cash tonight? Should I admit it? If he already knows, he’ll just make a bigger deal, but if he doesn’t, this shit could really get ugly. No. I won’t tell him. If he asks, I won’t lie, but ain’t no need in stirring up the past.

  “Thousands, O. Is that what you wanted to hear? I’ve slept with thousands. I’ve gobbled so much dick I get worried every Thanksgiving I’ll be mistaken for a fuckin’ turkey. Gobble gobble. Happy now?” Mona remarked, sarcastically.

  “I figured that,” he spat back coldly.

  “Fuck you, Othello,” Mona rasped, then stormed out, the tears welling in her eyes made of anger, guilt and frustration. As soon as she entered the bedroom, she grabbed her phone and went straight to her Facebook page.

  Did you ever tell him?

  It took several minutes before she got a reply.

  No. Why?

  Don’t.

  Mona tossed her phone aside, not even waiting for a reply.

  Othello walked in almost immediately.

  Mona glared out him.

  His expression seemed contrite.

  “I’m sorry. I was out of order. I shouldn’t have come at you like that.”

  “You damn right you shouldn’t have. Look O, I have a past just like you, and I find other people attractive, just like you. That doesn’t take away from the love I have for you. You’re my husband, I married you. To me, you’re all the fine I’ll ever need,” Mona expressed, no longer able to hold back her tears.