“You stepped up Moms.” I fold my arms. “Don't want the neighbors to see you breed crackheads and coke hustlers?”
Rita doesn't respond. We all head into the house. Lakitha’s hippopotamus looking ass runs up to Rockwell like she love her more than the world. Then this bitch mixes into our family like she did when she was barely twelve, following moms in the kitchen to cook.
With a frown, I lean against the wall right outside the door to see if moms and her favorite, Rocky, are talking about me.
“Rockwell, why are you... What are you doing answering Lorenzo’s phone? Married women don't do things like that.” Rita reprimands like Rockwell is her daughter.
“Momma Rita, you want me to put the chicken in the empanadas?” Rocky sidesteps the question. When I was little, I always thought Rockwell loved us all. But she’s only around to fuck with Lorenzo. Unsatisfied, greedy heiffa got a mansion, a rich husband that loves her, and she gotta have my brah too!
“Rocky, when you were young, I always steered you away from being too affectionate with him.” Rita says. “Then in college, y’all got together, that was good. I love you both, and want the best for you. But this is different. You're too old for that now.”
“Yes, I am 24, Mama Rita...”
“And LaShawn.” Moms continues, knowing she hasn’t gotten through. “What would your mother think?”
“Only matters what God thinks.” Rockwell tries that goody goody shit again, knowing us Catholic’s won’t even question God.
“True.” Moms sighs. Lorenzo shakes his head at me as he goes into the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge. I step into the doorway. Shit, maybe I’m a ghost to these muthafuckas anyway.
‘Tu Amor…’ Comes rushing out of the speakers from the living room, and all my sisters are singing so loudly. Yeah, they tryna step down memory lane and shit.
Rockwell takes the beer from Lorenzo’s hand, set it down, and start singing the song as they dance. Shit, I had taught her the words in Spanish when we were fifteen. Then Rockwell spins them over to Rita.
For a second I think Moms gon’ act like she been all day. Straight tripping, but she takes Lorenzo’s hand as Rockwell brings her to him and dances. My face is void of emotion, but my heart begins to clutch as I watch Moms love for her oldest child, and Lorenzo’s love for her. He’s the fucking cartel. She still loves him…
What about me?
Rockwell’s still singing, she slips up a little with pronouncing the rolled ‘r’ and then takes my hand. I don’t budge, but say, “Yo’ sadity ass could always make this home happy.”
“And you could too.” For a tiny girl, Rocky is pretty persistent and strong, because she spins me around. When she goes again to grab my hand, I snatch mine away. “I don’t fucking associate with hoeing married bitches.”
Rocky looks at me as if she’s been slapped. My brah and Moms are still dancing so nobody notices as Rockwell comes back with some whack ass apology. I roll my ass at the bullshit. “Gon’ over there. Black Barbie. You only good for two things. Being Lorenzo and ya husband’s cum bucket.”
Chapter 18
ROCKWELL
For a few years, I tried not to be afraid of Lorenzo because he had become my best friend. My ears when I had any issue and my heart. But I remember this one time, I saw him beat a buff ass dude unconscious in the projects. My nigga’s hands were dripped in blood, bitches were cheering him, other dudes were enjoying the show, but I was on pause. I had stayed in the quad after Lorenzo tried to talk to me. I wanted to know if the muthafucka on the ground was dead. Two hours later, the dude hadn’t even made a move to get up. I had gone straight up to Rita’s apartment, where Lorenzo was taking a shower in the only bathroom.
I had snatched the door open, closing it harshly behind me. The shower was on and there was fog all around. Lorenzo stood before me in boxer briefs, and the package just right. Mind blank, my body was heated as I stared at the ripples of his abdomen and the thick ropes of his biceps. He was too powerful for his own good.
“Nigga, what is wrong with you?” I pushed him at the chest. He didn’t even budge. Why he had to act like a fucking hoodlum? “You coulda killed him!”
“Is he dead?” He smiled, taunting me.
“You enjoyed every moment of it?” I put my hands on my hips. “People watching. Hoes looking at you with their fuck faces as if being a monster is cute–”
“Rocky,” his word was so hard it vibrates my chest and before I can blink, Lorenzo was all in my face. Who setting who straight?
“Fool, you better get out my face before my uncle put you down!” I shouted on my tippy toes.
“Don’t call me no fo’! I’m-a-muthafuckin’-Colombiano!” Lorenzo pounded his chest at each word. We stared at each other. This nigga wanted me to give him the time of day? Fuck that, he needed to be civilized. I’d already told him a bunch of shit I wouldn’t tell any other. He was supposed to be my everything instead of acting like anything goes.
“Listen, Scary Kid, I used to chauffer yo’ sexy ass around because I like it, whether Marcel ask me to or not. I check for you because you one of a nigga’s closest, you my peeples. Don’t ever come at me like that. Round here, niggas get dished what they deserve. Ol’ boy down there, resting off a real good ass beatin’, is the one you need to be afraid of. And not even then ‘cause I’d kill a muthafucka for touching you.” He tipped my chin up, and sounded so good assuring me, “Mommi, when I fuck somebody up, know it has to be done.”
“I ain’t tryna hear that.” Taking his hand, I grimaced while touching the scars on his knuckles. “Don’t matter how bad these other niggas is, Renz, you don’t have to be.”
Now his voice was smooth as butter as he grabs my ass like he owns it. “Don’t come at me hard unless you want to get that lil’ ass set right.”
I wriggled away from his hold as he winked at me. Inside I was all jelly wanting this man, but vivid pictures of the monster downstairs were still fresh on my mind…
Yeah, that had to be the first time, Lorenzo scared the fuck outta me. No, he wouldn’t hurt me but he just seemed to get harder and harder. Just being in his presence makes me wonder if I really want him to know that Junior is his…
By Friday I had called Paula again. She was worried that the newest window displayed would not be in on time. But Lorenzo had surprised me with a weekend away. Elisha had her nephew so Junior had gone over there.
~~~
That damn private jet ride felt so good. Problem is, I don’t even know how long I had been sleeping since Lorenzo said he didn’t wake me when we arrived. The landing airstrip is on a cliff overlooking aqua waters and white sandy beaches. The palm trees below have my mouth watering for a fruity drink with a kick.
“Bae, where are we?” I look back at the jet and my heart is unsettled. Then I look down and he’s putting Louis V canvass luggage in the back of a Hummer. “Nigga…where are we and I know you had to have gotten some really good groupons to get us here!”
“Groupons, the fuck?”
I chuckle and say, “Coupons. Shit, I remember back in the day when you had me count the money you stashed in Jordan shoeboxes. You’d sneak and help your moms pay bills and shit. Then fatten my pockets too,” I pause to smile thinking about how Renz would die laughing as I would try to rework Biggie’s rap song saying, “Damn, why you tryna stick me for my papers,” if he wasn’t giving me enough for Dior or Louie.
Lorenzo laughs too knowing exactly where my mind is. “Ma, you know I gave you exactly how much dough you wanted just for you to stop fuckin up the song. Too damn cute to be tryna frown and rap. That song was old back then.”
I lick my lips and then start to do the head bop, saying my version of Biggie Smalls song, “Warning.”
“Rocky, yo’ ass know you aren’t hard.” Lorenzo says and shakes his head.
My smile fades as I look back at the jet then at him. I say, “Nah, I ain’t, Renx. But what I do know is that your latest hustle better not have anyt
hing to do with this trip…” My eyes widen with concern but my nigga just stares at me. Lorenzo knows that I hope he isn’t mixed into some real shady shit. “So this right here,” I say looking around and waving a hand, “It’s savings from all those shoe boxes? Or we’re in a secluded area of Malibu.”
“Keep telling yourself that, ma,” he says.
“So you ain’t telling me where the fuck we are?” I roll my eyes.
“Maybe we’re in Colombia? You used to talk head when we were in high school and I told you I had to go home soon. Yup, that’s where we are.” He gives this cocky grin and grabs a Louis V duffel bag.
I narrow my eyes. “First of all, nigga, your home is Hoover. That’s where Mama Rita raised you,” I pause because I can’t say half his life since he was twelve. And I can’t say that’s where I fell in love with this muthafucka because I don’t even know if I want to fess up to him being Junior’s dad before the DNA test comes. Then I’m noticing really familiar rollaway luggage, “Boy is that my luggage from home?”
“Nah, ma. I had one of Chuey’s hoes go shopping for you. Don’t trip. I already know what you rock so everything is name brand. But, what I did cop from your crib,” he pauses and says, “Show you later.”
My eyes narrow. Can’t be the DNA test I lied and said I had done when Junior was born because I never did…
~~~
Later on, I still don’t know where we are, but I’m not even confident this nigga still has us in USA. We’ve made love five times in less than a day as we stayed in a bungalow on the beach. My nigga had me falling asleep, the dick was my sleep-aide in the middle of the day. Somehow, he had fallen asleep too while holding me. For a while I just lay in his arms, watching the ocean waves right outside of the sliding glass window.
“Mommi, you got a nigga working out night and day,” he says, leaning up on his elbow.
That sexy smile of Lorenzo’s almost fuzzes my mind and takes away the worrying I’ve been doing. But I begin with, “Bae…”
Hell, I know I had been wolfing earlier about this nigga using coupons to get us here and I knew for a fact this dude had taken me out of the states. But the way my heart is set up, I just really don't want to know too much... So I ask, “Lorenzo what have you been doing?”
“Sup little mama, you don't like this place?” Lorenzo pushes the long strands of hair behind my ear and kisses my lips so softly.
This muthafucka knew what I meant, he doesn’t flex so I can’t read him. After kissing my breath away, it takes a minute for me to ask, “Bae how are we at this real nice place on the beach. What's up with the private jet?”
“Rocky, don't worry about all that, ma. You been stressed about your store so can’t a nigga take care of you for a cool minute?”
I hold it in. The fact that Lorenzo knows me better than I know myself. Yeah, I've been stressed about Rock With It. But when we were younger, I made it convenient for him to lie to me, and I need to stop just letting Renz get away with murder. “Look, since Marcel gone I know you ain't been fucking with no burners. Haven't heard anything about a bunch of guns on the street. Renz, you ain't slanging...”
“The fuck? Why you asking me about all that, Rocky.” He looks me dead in the eyes.
The Lorenzo I knew as a kid beat the breaks off of Blu in the middle of the street for coming home smelling like weed. Not to mention the fact that his ass smoked it himself. I put a hand up so he can't say nothing. I know he likes his Chevys and the only nice cribs in Hoover are in Italian territory. So that makes it easier for him to hid shit. So I try to tread lightly saying, “Blu has been strung out so I know you ain't dealing. So Nigga what are you slanging?”
“Nah, ma. You coming at me foul with the bullshit. Think you finna buck up on me?”
“Loren–” I get cut off as he snatches my thigh and drags me down beneath his weight. Like I said, I really don't want to know. So I let him turn me around...
The next night, dressed in a jean skirt and a bedazzled bra, with Lorenzo in khaki shorts and a polo, we checked out this beach party where the people were all shades of brown, Latinos and blacks so I still couldn’t tell. But the dudes playing the drums had me backing my ass up on Lorenzo.
Then I felt something soft and cool lean against my caramel melons. I looked down and Lorenzo was lacing me down with my diamond necklace. A few weeks before, I had left a voicemail of my favorite singer Ciara’s “Promise” on his phone one day between classes while missing this nigga badly. He had this necklace sent with a note, as his promise that we would forever be together. I remember the day Mama Rita gave me the certified package; I must have went home and cried before opening it. For all the designer shit that Uncle Marcel and Lorenzo bought just because I’d talk head, I didn’t want diamonds. Hell, I cherished the few sentences of his promise more than all. I didn’t want anything. I wanted my nigga back. But, the necklace has an “L (heart) R” dripped in diamonds. I smile. This nigga has been all through my house, if he found this. And I know his sneaky ass even saw the note that was in the shoe box with it. I turn around and kiss him softly on the lips. My hand on his cheek, I deepen the kiss as I let my tongue roll around his. Lorenzo’s thick black eyelashes begin to shade, but I’m not ready to go fuck him just yet. If I keep tonguing him down, we aren’t going to ever enjoy being outside of the bungalow to long.
So I turn around and back it up on him as the drummer dudes switch up the beat.
“Uh…. Ohhhh…” People start saying something in Spanish that has to be along the lines of ‘that’s my jam.’
Lorenzo has one hand on a Corona with lime and his other creeping around my leg and upwards as the music played. This nigga knows just what he’s doing and where his goal lies…
There are people all around us damn near fucking and nobody is paying attention so I don’t mind Lorenzo’s big, callused hand creeps from my hip to my skirt, my thigh. I let my legs open up wide for my nigga. He’s whispering something in my ears, and though it’s Spanish I remember it as the good shit he used to say while beating the pussy down.
I tease, letting my ass cheeks jiggle against him. My nigga is being respectable but I place my hand over his and push it closer to my chocha, asking, “You miss me, bae?”
“Don’t tempt me, Rocky,” he says, lips grazing my ear. “Shit, we ain’t been out that room all day. I’ma take you down where you stand.”
My heart beats hard as I dance for him. Raphael is gone to me. My fucking marriage was built around lies and a desire not to be lonely. Being with the first boy I’ve ever crushed on is all I want to do. My honey is swollen and heavy as his hand slips my lace panties. When Lorenzo’s fingers softly squeeze my clit, I moan. He drops his bottle in the sand and allows his other hand to come around and grip my breast through my bra, actually holding me up from falling. My knees are weak when Lorenzo lets a finger plunges inside of me and then another.
I moan to him, body tingling all over. The stars are sparkling like diamonds over the black ocean tonight. The wind softly blows my hair over my shoulder, and Lorenzo starts to suck on my neck
“You want this dick?” he asks.
“Yeeesss,” I can barely speak. But he has to hear me because he’s got two fingers loving me now and a thumb caressing my clit. I toot my ass against him, needing more. “Renz… Lorenzooooo.”
“Damn, say my name again.”
“Lorenzo…”
Now his lips are on my neck, he’s biting and sucking. Pain, pleasure and all that good stuff. His other hand is holding me up. My fingers claw into the strong muscles in his forearms while he pushes inside my gush.
Quickly pushing my skirt down, Lorenzo spins me back around. He has this hard look on his face and even if I don’t have x-ray vision I know the dick is on point, standing to attention. His dark eyes are on me. He’s all smiles. Sighing he licks his fingers. Then he ain’t smiling no more.
“Nah, nigga,” I laugh from deep down in my abs. This nigga wants to smash right here! I point a f
inger at his crazy bossy ass “Lorenzo, stay back.”
“The fuck you going to do?” The left side of his mouth creeps up into a smile so damn sexy that I’m tempted. I look around, people of all shades of brown and they look so free.
“Boy,” I begin, not sure what to say, I place my hand on my hip. But Lorenzo’s hands go to the collar of his polo and he rips the thick cotton down the middle like it means nothing. I start to back away, licking my lips while my eyes are all over those dark caramel muscles.
I end up leading him away from the bonfire. The music floats toward us as we sink down into the sand about a quarter mile away and around a bend of sand. With Lorenzo laying down in the sand, I snatch my panties off and toss them into the dark ocean. Turning around, Lorenzo has unzipped his pants. The dick is king, and my nigga’s hand is massaging it slowly.
My mouth waters.
“Nah ma,” Lorenzo says, knowing exactly that I want to taste the dick, he says, “Jump on it.”
I fall with my knees around his waist. It’s a little colder over here with no fire blazing, so I begin to shiver. But when my pussy melts down on his hot dick, my body feels warm inside. Lorenzo reaches up and undoes my bra. I start riding every inch of this long, super fat pipe as his big hands squeeze on my titties.
When he tries to get a finger in my ass, I slap his hand.
“Damn ma…”
“Nigga, check yourself. I ain’t for that ass shit,” I say. I’ve let him finger me a few times but I want to call the shots. I ride down on the dick again like I own him. Lorenzo puts his hands behind his head like he doesn’t have to do shit. I reach down, suck on that sexy bottom lip and ride the dick until hot lava comes squirting into my pussy.
Chapter 19
RAPHAEL
It’s way past eleven pm, since ironically, the plane had a malfunction and we were laid over. As Justine and I walk through the Chicago airport, I slip on my platinum wedding band. Having already grabbed my luggage, I snap over my shoulder, “Get your stuff and c'mon.”
Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug Page 9