by Keisha Ervin
Sean’s nostrils flared. It was taking everything in him not to reach across the table and choke the shit out of Roc. If it weren’t for the .45 he was sure Roc had tucked in his waist and the three henchmen by the door, he would have.
“This burnt pizza muthafucka got us fucked up.” Mo B jumped up.
“I suggest you get a hold of your friend,” Roc warned as he resumed eating his food, unfazed.
He wasn’t the type to talk smack. He just twisted caps.
“Cuz, chill out,” Sean demanded.
Mo B ice grilled Roc, but did as he was told.
“Yo, Roc, all that callin’ me out my name and shit ain’t even necessary. I came here to talk to you like a man, so respect me as one, ’cause frankly, I could’ve been on some foul shit like you and signed the contract without giving a fuck.”
“Explain to me how I treated you foul?” Roc sat back in his chair and cocked his head to the side.
“When I signed wit’ you I expected you to be fair. I trusted you, and you played off that shit. I ain’t understand them words in that contract. I was just a nigga tryin’ to get put on. You ain’t have to do me like that. You making most of the profit, Roc. Yo’ take already bigger then mine and you still taking from me. That shit ain’t fair and you know it.”
“You a funny guy.” Roc pointed his fork toward Sean and chuckled.
“This cat straight take us as a joke,” Mo B shot, amped as hell.
“Yo, I’m done.” Sean threw down his napkin and stood up.
The effect of the cocaine was making him feel like Superman. At that moment, he could care less that Roc was affiliated with the mob.
“And I’ll tell you what. I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ you no more. I’m signing wit’ Sony and that’s that. If you got a problem wit’ it then buck . . . otherwise, this is done.”
“Do what you gotta do and see where it takes you, but I suggest you do yo’self a favor and live.” Roc lit a Bolivar cigar and stared at Sean.
The cold glare in Roc’s eye sent chills throughout Sean’s body. Roc wasn’t a man who made idle threats.
“C’mon, Q,” Sean said, never taking his eyes off of him.
Inside the limo, Sean leaned back against the seat and loosened his tie. Anger was written all over his face. Q was unsure of what to say or do. Sean was so on edge that anything she did might set him off, but she didn’t care. For once Sean had gotten what he deserved. Happy with the outcome, she placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Get the fuck off me.” He shrugged his arm away. “It’s your fuckin’ fault I’m in this position in the first place.”
“What?” She looked at him, puzzled.
“Cause of yo’ stupid ass we was late! If we would’ve got there on time maybe I would’ve had more time to make him see where I was coming from! And besides,” he said, looking her square in the eyes, “the whole time that muthafucka was going off on me you ain’t say shit! You just sat yo’ fat ass there,” Sean said as he used his index finger to mush her in the side of the head, “and kept on eatin’! What the fuck was the point of you being there? Your presence was useless. You could’ve said something to back me up!”
“Sean, you cannot blame this on me,” Q shot, not having it. “You the one that want to switch labels—”
“Look,” he snapped, cutting her off. “When I ask you to talk, that’s when you speak! Until then, shut the fuck up!”
Q sat back against the leather seat with her arms folded across chest, fuming. Everything in her wanted to haul off and knock the shit out of Sean. But fighting him wouldn’t solve anything. Q was smarter then that. There were other ways to get back at Sean, and she knew just how to do it.
Alone with her thoughts, Q took a puff from a Virginia Slim menthol cigarette. Darkness surrounded her while demented thoughts filled her head. Salty tears rolled down her cheeks as she gazed out into blackness. It was one in the morning. Everyone, including Sean, was asleep. Q couldn’t close her eyes if she wanted to. Not as long as Ahsim was gone. She wished that she never let him hold her. Without him she was at her loneliest, but with him she couldn’t be herself.
Q knew she could only be with Ahsim for so long. He’d eventually see her for who she was. She’d been hit and lied to for too long to take love seriously. To her, love was a losing game that only fools played. Only one person made her feel whole. She’d give her all to him. Q wished to the stars above that she had a bottle of gin to ease her pain. Even a good blunt would do. She would rather be pumped off drugs then drown in her own tears. Her life was a mess.
Q cheated herself out of happiness time and time again as if it were okay. Things couldn’t continue the way they were. She needed to get her feet on solid ground, but no matter what she tried she always returned to black. The only way she could see the clear blue sky was if Sean were gone. Q could hear the sound of Ahsim putting his key into the lock. Taking one last pull from the cigarette, she put it out and sprayed air freshener.
Q didn’t want anyone to know that she smoked. It was a dirty little secret of hers. Ahsim stepped into the house and the scent of his Gaultier cologne filled the room. The smell drove Q crazy. She had to have him.
“You know what time it is?” she snapped.
“The last I checked almost ten minutes to two.” He walked into the living room and stood behind the couch. “Why you sittin’ in the dark?”
She ignored his question. “Did you enjoy your date?”
“It was cool, did you?” Ahsim took off his jacket and placed it on the back of the couch.
“I didn’t go on a date and you know it.”
“Well, you had me fooled.”
“Did you fuck her?” Q demanded to know with a look of lust in her eyes.
“That’s a bit personal, don’t you think?”
“It’s a simple question. Either yes or no.” Q stood up and got in his face.
Her full breasts were pressed up against his chest.
“Did you fuck ol’ boy?” He kissed her lips roughly.
“No.”
“A’ight, then.” Ahsim began to unzip the back of her dress.
“Why you actin’ like you don’t like me no more?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I ain’t actin’ like nothin’. You the one said we need to chill out.”
“Stop bringing up old shit.” She kissed his lips passionately.
After that, nothing else mattered. The electricity between them was inevitable. Ahsim was back in Q’s arms where he belonged. Thoughts of her sweating with her ass up filled his mind as he unbuckled his pants. There was no other place that he’d rather be. Ready to do his thing, Ahsim gripped her waist and pushed her against the wall. There they made love quietly until neither could physically go anymore.
Part Four
Back to Black
“Celebrity Photos, this is Frank. How can I help you?”
“We still on?”
“Yeah,” Frank agreed eagerly.
“What time will you be there?”
“At twelve o’clock as you requested.”
“Cool . . . And remember, make it seem real.”
Q bobbed her head and vibed to the beat. “She Got Her Own (Miss Independent Remix)” by Ne-Yo featuring Jamie Foxx and Fabolous was playing, hyping the ladies up. The Loft was packed. It seemed like everybody in the Loft was in the spot. From wall to wall there were playas and thugs. Chicks strutted around the club their noses in the air, doing their best impression of America’s Next Top Model contestants. Q covered her mouth and laughed.
It was funny how every female in the spot felt that she was the number one bitch every nigga wanted to get with. Q sat at alone in the VIP section of the club with an apple martini in hand. She was determined to have a good time. Sean was out of town for the night doing a show in KC. Finally, she and Ahsim would have a night alone without him breathing down her neck. She couldn’t wait for Ahsim to return from the bar so they could hit the dance floor.
&n
bsp; All of the pent-up frustrations she’d bottled inside were dying to be released. Q pulled out her gold Sephora compact mirror and checked her face. As always, she was on point, but her lips needed a fresh coat of gloss. Q grabbed her tube of Stila lip glaze and glided it across her bottom lip. Smacking her lips together, she noticed a male figure approach her table.
Q closed her mirror and focused her attention on the man. To her surprise, it was Grip. Q’s heart rate immediately increased. She swore if she looked down she would see it beat through her chest. Grip was the type of nigga that you loved to hate. He was ruggedly handsome in a Lil Wayne kind of way, but that didn’t stop her from hating his guts. His outlandish accusations had made her life a living hell. How dare he come near me as if everything were all good? she thought.
“What’s good, Q?” He licked his lips suggestively.
“Not a damn thing.” Her upper lip curled.
“C’mon, ma, don’t be like that.” He caressed her cheek.
Q tried her best to catch his hand with her teeth, but missed.
“You feisty tonight, ain’t you.” He grinned.
“Spell feisty,” she spat, aggravated by his presence.
“I miss you.”
“An’ . . . wrong.”
“I know you miss me too,” he whispered softly into her ear.
“Have you ever been evaluated? ’Cause you are certifiably crazy.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Pynn,” a photographer from Celebrity Photos said.
“Yes.”
“Can I get a picture of you and Grip?” He held the camera up before she could reply.
“No.” She put up her hand to block her face. Where is Ahsim, she thought.
“One picture ain’t gon’ hurt.” Grip wrapped his arm around her shoulder and posed.
“If you don’t get yo’ ass away from me!” Q jerked her arm away as the photographer proceeded to take her picture anyway.
“Just give me a kiss for old time’s sake.” He leaned in, his lips inches away from hers.
“I said move.” She pushed him as Ahsim came toward them.
Ahsim promptly recognized Grip and pulled out his gun.
“Get yo’ ass outta here!” He pushed the photographer away.
The photographer didn’t care. He’d already gotten his shot.
“Yo, my man.” Ahsim yoked Grip up by the collar and placed the cold, steel tip of the gun to his head. “You need to fall back.”
“You got one second to get yo’ hands off me,” Grip warned.
“Or you gon’ do what?” Ahsim took the safety off. “That’s what I thought. Now understand this: Mrs. Pynn ain’t got nothin’ for you. As a matter of fact, anytime you see her I suggest you look the other way. ’Cause if you don’t, I’ma be in yo’ fuckin’ face and you won’t live to rap about it.”
“Yo, Q, I suggest you get yo’ man,” Grip said in a menacing tone.
“Ahsim, it’s cool.” She tugged on his arm, scared.
Ahsim tightened his hold on Grip’s collar, then let him go.
“Get the fuck outta here,” he barked.
Grip heatedly fixed his clothes, then looked at Q and smiled.
“Call me later.”
“Please,” she snarled as he walked away.
“You a’ight?” Ahsim caressed her cheek, concerned.
“Yeah, he’s an asshole.”
“You wanna go home?”
“I think it’s best.” She picked up her purse, pissed that her one night without Sean was ruined.
The room was quiet. Everything was still, like an Ingrid Michaelson song. Shades of grey outlined the room. The curtains in Q’s bedroom were closed, making it seem as if it were night, although it was actually mid-afternoon. She lay curled in the fetal position, knocked out. Her long, black hair was sprawled over the satin pillowcase like a fan. She was in such a deep sleep that she didn’t hear the sound of heavy footsteps enter through the door.
Even the sound of the curtains being forced back with aggression didn’t alarm her. Sean stumbled over to the bed humming a dirty rap song, drunk out of his mind. He had something in store for Q. Quietly, he took hold of her hair, wrapped it tight around his fist, and yanked her out the bed. Startled, Q’s eyes popped open as the follicles of her head burned.
“I’ma kill you.” Sean dragged her across the floor.
The excruciating pain of her hair being ripped from her head caused Q to wail out in distress.
“I knew you was fuckin’ him!”
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” She tried to remove his hand from her hair, but to no avail.
“Yo’ scandalous ass been up to no good this whole time. I can’t believe I let you make a fool outta me!” He slapped her face hard.
The intensity of the hit caused her bottom lip to split open and squirt out blood.
“I didn’t even do nothing! What are you talkin’ about?”
Sean let go of her hair and got on top of her.
“Bitch, you fuckin’ him!” He squeezed her cheeks with his hands tight.
“Fuckin’ who?”
“Grip!” He punched her in the eye. “The shit all over the Net! I’m out of town making money and you in the club takin’ pictures with this nigga!”
“It wasn’t even like that,” she cried.
“Stop lyin’.” He let go of her face and pounded her head into the floor.
“I’m not!”
“I fuckin’ hate yo’ ass! You gon’ die today, bitch!” He began to choke her.
Q tried prying Sean’s hand away but his clasp was too tight. To her dismay, the more she put up a fight the harder it was for her to breath. She could see stars. Death was approaching but she had to hold on. After all her hard work things couldn’t end now.
“Mr. Pynn.” Rosa rushed in the room. “Ralph,” she screamed. “Come quick! He’s killing her this time!”
Ralph, along with Sean’s pot’nah Anrico and Mo B, came to Q’s aid. It took all three men to pull Sean off of Q.
“Get the fuck off of me.” He pushed them all away.
Q held her throat and gasped for air.
“I want yo’ ass outta here by the time I get back.” He pointed his finger towards her and left. Anrico and Mo B followed.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Pynn?” Rosa sat with her on the floor.
“I don’t know why he treats me like this,” Q wept.
“Me either, dear, me either.”
“I can’t take this anymore.”
“What the hell is going on?”Ahsim raced into the room, panicked.
The sight of Q’s face answered his question. Anger seethed through his veins. The left side of her face was crimson, she had a black eye, her bottom lip was busted, and Sean’s fingerprints were plastered around her neck like cement.
“You said you wouldn’t let him hurt me,” she sobbed.
“What happened?”
“Where were you?” she countered.
“I was out jogging. Why did he do this to you?” He leaned down and wiped her hair from her face.
“He thinks I’m cheating on him with Grip! The pictures the photographer took are all over the Internet and he thinks I did it on purpose. You have to tell him it isn’t true or else he’s going to kill me! I just know it!”
Q eyes fluttered open. Unlike earlier in the day she wasn’t awakened by a violent attack. The room was stark grey. She could hear rain tap against the window. Her body ached in places she didn’t even know existed. It hurt to even blink, but the white box tied with a yellow ribbon brought tears to her eyes. Sean often tried to buy her affections after he’d beaten her. Normally she would feed into his ploy to win her back, but not this time. Her heart couldn’t take another gift sent from the devil. The sight of it made her stomach turn. Fed up, Q pushed the box off the edge of the bed.
“You ain’t gon’ open it?” She heard Ahsim say from behind.
Q slowly turned on her side. To her surprise, he was sitting in a chair bes
ide the bed. Seeing his face brought a slight smile to hers, but it quickly faded once she remembered the state of her lip.
“How long have you been sitting there?”
“Since you fell asleep. Did the pain pills help any?”
“A little. Where is Sean?”
“He and Mo B went to the studio. He said that they’d be there for a couple of hours. I explained to him what happened, though. He knows that Grip set you up, if it matters any.”
“It doesn’t.” She looked away. ‘“I just want him dead.”
Ahsim sat quiet, unsure of how to reply.
“Will you just lay down with me?” Q gazed somberly into his eyes.
“Of course.”
Ahsim got up and lay behind her. With his strong arm wrapped around her waist, Q could finally breathe again. No word in the English dictionary could describe how he made her feel. He showed her the beauty of trust and friendship. He saw that outside of her physical beauty, she also possessed class and smarts. Sean never appreciated those things in her. Q was beginning to wonder if he ever loved her at all. There was no way he could have when she made it so easy for him. Soon it would be time to pack her bags and go.
With her eyes concealed by oversized Prada shades, Q sat alone at a table for two. She was dressed to impress in a gorgeous watermelon-colored Carmen Marc Valvo scoop neck, empire-waist dress and nude, patent leather, peep toe Jimmy Choo. It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon, but Mosaic, a modern/fusion restaurant, was crowded with people dying to taste the one-ofa-kind fine cuisine. Q, on the other hand, didn’t have an appetite at all. After being ridiculed and beaten, things in her life only got more chaotic.
One night while at The Venue, Sean stood in the men’s restroom with his legs parted, holding his dick, taking a piss.
He could barely stand up he was so drunk and high. Sean was so fucked up, the room was spinning. Off his guard, he ignored the sound of the restroom door creaking open, and continued to pee. Sean assumed that one of his boys was nearby so he wasn’t worried about anyone trying to harm him. Poor, naïve Sean had no idea that danger was lurking right over shoulder. Finished handling his business, Sean went to flush the urinal when a cord was placed around his neck.