Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug

by K'Aliyah Knight

  “Stop acting foul, girl.” He blocks my path. In that sexy ass Colombian accent, Lorenzo says, “I'm not tryna play games with you, mommi.”

  “Honestly, that’s fine. But I’m a need you to do you, so I can do me.” Can I do this nigga the same way I do Raphael every day? Switch off my emotions? Show him no love?

  “Rockwell, you know I care about you,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me out of the middle of the parking lane so a car can get by.

  “No, I don't.”

  “You said it was how I treated you not in the words I say.”

  “Well, don't worry LORENZO HENRY MEDINA! I don't want to hear the words.” I flip him the bird. If I can’t get past him, hell at least Lorenzo will know he can’t have me. “Fuck you. Fuck loving you. Because I know you’ve seen that trick.”

  “Man,” he takes a deep breath like I’m hounding him. “Told you she works for me.”

  “Wrong answer,” I call out to one of uppity ass neighbors that lives a few mansions away as she starts for Saks 5th Avenue. We really ain’t cool like that and her eyebrows furrow as I hurry toward her. But my God, I’m not strong enough to stay away from Lorenzo. At least, not on my own.

  ~~~

  The next week goes well. Lorenzo attends Junior’s baseball game, but the maid took my son. So the worst part about not seeing this nigga in seven days is hearing my son talk about how much fun he had with Lorenzo at his game. Damn, I even had ignored my son on Saturday night as I helped him get ready for bed, all because I didn’t want to hear about Renz.

  Tonight, dressed in a silk camisole and shorts, I decide to come downstairs for a late night snack. While putting on my house shoes, I chat with Elisha on the phone. I really want to tell her that I just saw Raphael snorting cocaine, but I know she’d be on one. But she brings up my lame excuse for a husband anyway.

  “Rocky, why don’t you just get a divorce?”

  To keep it 100, I stay so I’m not alone... Sighing, I say, “E, to be honest, I haven’t even thought of that. For the last few years it’s really been just me in my lane and Raphael in his.”

  “Well, I think you should just be cool on him. Cool on dudes period for a while.”

  As I turn on the hall light to go downstairs, my eyes narrow. This is the same shit she used to say about me being with Lorenzo. And I know she’s including him, talking about be cool on ‘dudes’ period. “What is Renz up to?” I ask.

  “Rocky… nah, mamacita. You don’t even want to know. I have always said that nigga ain’t your future.”

  “Girl, don’t tell me all of that. I’m married to a muthafucka that gets no love.” I pause to look back up the stairs even though I’m whispering. “And in love with a muthafucka that I know is doing some type of sneaky ass hustling. Shit, I can’t even be pissed with the nigga fucking around with Trinidad because I have a damn wedding ring on.”

  “No you can’t. Besides you don’t want a nigga like Lorenzo anyway.”

  I don’t even turn on the downstairs hall light, but just walk in the dark while trying to think of a comeback. “But he has always been my everything, E,” I murmur. I step into the kitchen and flip on the lights. I can hear Elisha replying but my phone falls from my fingertips as I stand there in shock. This nigga almost made me jump out of my own damn skin!

  Lorenzo’s crazy ass is sitting at the table like he belongs. How long has he been sitting in the dark, sipping on Raphael’s expensive whisky straight from the bottle? And the nigga has got a pathetic look on his face like he ain't busted a nut in a year.

  The Spanish lover look that always had my panties soaking wet still has my panties drizzling just for him.

  “Get the fuck out of my house,” I whisper, damn near breaking my neck to glance down the hall. Paranoid about Raphael coming downstairs, I quietly point to the sliding glass door behind his chair.

  “Stop avoiding me, Rocky,” Lorenzo replies.

  I fold my arms. “Avoiding you? Nah, I’m just giving you space and opportunity like your bitch ass needed while coming to Illinois and then Colombia back in the day.”

  “Man, I called you a bitch when I first laid eyes on you. One muthafucking time but you saying that shit back with every breath you breathe.”

  I look at this nigga, with a smirk as if he really doesn’t know. Lorenzo’s dirty ass continues to look innocent so I say, “Tranny?”

  Yeah, this nigga automatically knows that he is foul. It’s as if a lightbulb went off in that big dumb head of his.

  “Man, I fucked up, come on mommi,” Lorenzo starts to get up.

  My legs are already weak, but I quickly snatch my iPhone up from the marble phone. I start to flip through my texts from Trinidad. “Stop tryna act like you give a damn. Look here, booboo. This ain’t a happy muthafucka? Why don’t you go on over there and enjoy yaself.”

  He sighs. “C'mon man. For real Rockwell?”

  “You got in my house. Renz, find your way out.” I start to turn away. Lorenzo is before me in a flash. How does this nigga move so quick, it’s a question I’ve been asking myself for years.

  “Renz, you ain’t shit, don’t even fucking touch me,” I whisper harshly as he tries to hold me. I push away at his muscular arms. In my weakness, I try to hurt him the only way that I can. “You’re just like my uncle Marcel… you ain’t shit.”

  My nigga lets me go instantly. Comparing him to Marcel is the worst thing I can do. Colombians have their loyalties. No matter how much I loved my uncle when he was alive, I knew he’d fuck over blood.

  Without even making sure Lorenzo leaves my home, I turn and go back upstairs. There won’t be a bowl of rainbow sherbet to cry in, I’ll just leave the tears on my pillow…

  Chapter 38

  LORENZO

  A few days later, Santiago is happy as fuck that Sal is somewhere in hiding and shitting bricks. At least this time, I finished the mission and didn’t let Rocky fuck with my head since she refuses to talk to me. For her to compare me to Marcel was all bad. That shit tried to eat at me, but we’re going to address that shit later.

  I'm standing in the terminal at the airport heading to New York.

  Soon as the flight attendant calls first class boarding, I get up and head over.

  Then my phone rings. I’m surprised to see Rockwell’s phone number pop up. But I answer, preparing to get cussed out or something. Just want little momma to be cool with me again. “Sup, ma?”

  “Renz, pah… pahleezzz…” she starts crying.

  “Where are you?

  “My store!”

  “Gimme a minute”

  It takes me 15 minutes to get out the airport, and I'm mashing out on the freeway doing a buck twenty. Soon as I get downtown, there's smoke all around the mall. Through all the fire trucks and chaos I see Rockwell across the street with Paula and a few other people. Rock With It is engulfed in flames, as are the stores on either side. Firefighters are working in sets on my girl’s store and trying to wet down the next set of stores before they catch fire.

  Rocky's in my arms before I can step on the curb. Crying to me and my heart hurts for lil’ mama. I take her home. She sleeps all afternoon. And I wake her up just to see whose going to pick up Junior from school. Her or the mark. Where is the cracka’ jack anyway? He has to know his wife store got burnt down.

  Like she read my mind she says, Raphael is out of town again, left this morning. Junior’s spending the night with a friend. She turns over and holds the pillow and cries more. I move the pillow from her arms and hold her.

  Damn, I hate to see her cry so I kiss every single tear from her cheeks. My hand goes beneath her shirt, and I rub her soft skin. And then I give her the only part of me that she can have. Beneath the sheets my mouth takes in those sweet honey lips and my tongue French kisses Rocky’s clit. Those tears turn into moans as I love her until she cums quick.

  “Renz…” She breathes my name so deeply. I pop back up from under the covers to see that gorgeous ass fuck face. “Bae, I love
you,” Rockwell moans, as I claim on top.

  “You love me huh?” My mouth is wet with pussy juice as I tongue her down. Can’t say I love her even though I do. My girl is still not coming clean about my don. Even though I already got the DNA results back, I’m waiting for Rockwell to speak up. “You love me, Rocky?”

  “Yeah, Lorenzo,” she nods, as my dick slowly claims Rockwell’s sweet gush. Them moans come quickly and I offer the long stroke, letting my dick explore every area of these dripping wet walls.

  She's moaning, offering love in sexy little murmurs while exploding all over my dick. I keep at it. Only time will heal. So I’ma fuck her all night long.

  “Lorenzo,” she sighs, lying on my chest, while catching her breath. “I’ma stick witchu no matter what.”

  I nod, kissing her plush lips. “No matter what?” Shit, I need to hear it again.

  “Yeah, bae. Nothing even matters.”

  Chapter 39

  BLU

  “Hey Rocky... um when you get this...” I pause, thinking about how cool we used to be. I fucked it up. “If you get a chance, I wanna come by your store and get a few things, just a few shirts and pants nothing special...”

  I can't see Popeye again in my little sister clothes, not again. Phillip wants to see me. Momma dresses like a nun these days. Now I know there couldn't be nothing between me and my husband. I fucked that shit up so bad, but damn, I can at least be presentable.

  After a few hours of waiting for Rockwell to reply, I take Lakitha’s suggestion that she’d take me shopping.

  We end up at funky ass Wal-Mart. “So how much I get?” I smirk at the White Stag pants.

  “Mommy gave me an extra $40,” Lakitha replies. “Look at these cute velour pants.”

  My eyes roll away from my kid sister. “Did you just say $40? For what, panties and shit? Damn!”

  “Well, you know,” Lakitha stops pushing through hangers of ugly clothes. Finally, her positive outlook on life is looking pretty salty. “It's just mom taking care of three girls and now your grown ass. So get some damn gratitude.”

  “A’ight! Daggg!” After a minute, I ask, “Did Rocky call me back?”

  “Not yet. Chill. She's a businesswoman. You know she won’t mind hooking you up with some clothes from her store. I told you we could just stop by and if she’s there ask.”

  “Nah, ‘cus if the bitch says no, I’ma be on one. Rocky been acting like a sadity trick these days anyway!”

  “Please refrain from cussing in my presence.” She carts away toward the market section.

  ~~~

  It felt weird coming back home after so many years being MIA. Popeye’s Granny hugged me tightly and I could tell Popeye chick didn't really like that. Here Lauren kept herself busy tho’, cooking, wiping imaginary dust from the kitchen table or wherever I sat.

  Too bad homegirl didn't get the hint. I have no intentions of getting Popeye back. He deserves better. So I assess her, look her up and down. Appearances tell me she got a good job, she slowly been moving shit in and replacing Granny stuff with her flashy shit. Tryna make this her home.

  Granny and I chat. She tells me how Popeye coaches the football team at our high school. Granny is throwing hints about me and my husband left to right.

  “Oh, that’s good, Granny.” I feel uncomfortable no matter how much she loves me and I love her. Then Phillip comes running in the room, rubbing his eyes from his afternoon nap.

  “Mommy!” Phillip tugs at my hand and the bitch does a double take. Yeah, he called Lauren that before. And no she doesn't expect him to accidentally be calling me as such. Anyway, I keep it cool.

  “Hi, Phillip!” My smile is genuine as he climbs onto my lap to give me a hug.

  “I wanna show you my room.”

  “Okay...” I look toward Popeye. He’s sitting on the couch tryna keep busy. Man, I spent enough time in the streets to know people don't trust crackheads, so I wait.

  “Yeah, go on back,” Popeye says. Lauren gives that stink eye.

  I can hear them silently bickering. When we get to Phillip room, there's Ironman all over the walls. Phillip starts for his closet jumps down Indian style and starts throwing toys over his shoulder while talking a mile a minute.

  “Baby, wait...” I try to catch a transformer type Lego, but the little dude is already tossing more toys. “Um... I can't...”

  A fire truck damn near pokes my eye out and finally I just think fuck it and let his toys continue to fly behind him and hit the floor. How he moves so fast and talk so damn much is beyond me. It makes me miss him. Wonder how when Phillip had colic, and I was trying to take care of him and his daddy, how I really just didn’t survive. Damn, I almost come to tears. Anyway, the lil’ nigga is smart! I smile at Phillip as he talks. We sit Indian Style on the floor and start putting together some train track pieces.

  “Mom, not like that!” he gets excited then flinches.

  “What's wrong, Phillip?” I put the track piece down.

  “Nothing.”

  “Baby you just got all jumpy.” I rub his silky fohawk. “Baby, you’ve been running around and talking a mile a minute, so don’t tell me, ‘nothing.’ Did you stick yourself with one of these pieces.”

  “Nope.”

  I shrug. Shit, was never a good momma anyway. Then we start playing again, and I smile, getting into the groove of things.

  “Mommy?”

  “Yes?”

  “You mad?”

  “Boy, why?”

  “Because I just talked back?”

  “Huh? Boy you got ADHD or something!” I snap. He's making me nervous Happy, nervous, happy, nervous! Shit, I had taken all my prenatal vitamins and was healthy when I had him, but the birth was traumatic.

  “No.” Tears pool into Phillips dark almond eyes, and drop down his chocolate skin. “I don't...”

  “Stop all that crying. Whatcha problem kid?” I’m about ready to go. I could take a crying kid, if he just fell or something, but this is out of the blue. It takes me back to him being a colicky baby and makes me just want to run to the pipe.

  “You love me?” he asks.

  “Yes.” I try not to get up and run from him because I do want him to know I love him.

  “No, you don't,” Phillip says, putting down all the train pieces.

  “I promise, I love you, Phillip.” I scoop him into my arms, and he’s damn near too big that his legs stick out. Glancing my beautiful boy in the eyes, I say, “I'm just not... Look, you know how you just built this Lego train, you good at it. I can't do it so quickly.”

  He laughs through his tears.

  “Hey,” I laugh and tickle him. “I helped.”

  “Yeah, mommy, you helped a little.”

  “See. People have things that they are good at. Like building shit with Legos and stuff. Me? I ain't a good mommy.” I shrug. “But I love you so much. More than you will ever know. No matter how awful I am.”

  “You love me?” He looks surprised.

  “Yes!” I try not to snap. “Why you keep asking that?”

  “Mommy said you hate me.”

  “Mommy? Who. That bitch in there?”

  He nods.

  “Is that why you keep getting jumpy?”

  He nods.

  “What else the bitch tell you?”

  “The bish say you hit me when I was a baby.”

  Before I can tell him only grown folks cuss, I'm up. Before I know it, I’m in the kitchen where Lauren is putting frozen broccoli in a pot.

  “You told my kid that I beat on him?” I grab the spatula as Lauren turns around quickly. I pop her upside that big yellow forehead. “Bitch, like this? That how I hit him?”

  “Excuse m–”

  Whomp! Straight to her muthafuckin' mouth. Now I drop the spatula and go for her throat.

  “Aye, Blu!” Popeye comes running into the room.

  Granny holds Phillip back in the hallway as I grab Lauren’s hair. Lauran tries to pick up the skillet of ground beef, bu
t Popeye damn near burns himself getting it out of her hands. So she comes and scratches out at me. Had to get me in the eye as I go for blow to her nose. Can't feel that shit, but now I'm fighting half blind wanting to kill this hoe. Then Popeye grabs me around the waist and yanks me so hard, the side of my head hits the wall.

  As I’m sitting on the floor, I touch wetness on my forehead. It’s bleeding. He's apologizing and his bitch is calling me a crackhead.

  “Lauren shut the fuck up!” he yells, bending down for me.

  “Nigga, I don’t need you!” I swat his hand.

  “Fuck her, Popeye! That base head pulled out my damn weave! Bitch this cost more than you slam! Crackhead ass hoe,” Lauren holds a cup holder to her bloody nose.

  “Don't you ever lie to my son.” I’m up really quickly.

  “I ain't lied. You on some shit!”

  Popeye looks back and forth at us. Not sure who to believe.

  “Baby,” Lauren says, “Make her sign them damn divorce papers before she goes strung out again!”

  In the living room, I eye some shit. Won’t disrespect Granny's house anymore than I just have by fighting this bitch. So, I pick up some new zebra lamps that I know had to be Lauren’s and toss them at her. Popeye catches one. But the next goes cracking against her forehead. And I’m out.

  Chapter 40

  POPEYE.

  Nothing in this world will ever make me stop loving my wife, not even her stupid ass for fucking shit up. Guess it’s like a nigga will always love his moms for being a fucking crackhead. So God put another drugged out broad into my life, and I loved her ass too.

  My hand is fucking burnt, since I had grabbed an iron skillet from Lauren’s stupid ass. She wasn’t finna hurt my BM, nah fuck that. But what the hell just happened? Blu came in. She’d been respectful, chatted with Granny and just wanted to kick it with PJ for a minute.

  My mind wonders to when we were 20 and a doctor called me about some muthafuckin' counseling sessions. He had said that Blu suffered from post partum depression. The fuck? I didn’t even know what the doctor was talking about her being depressed after having a baby. I had never been that type of dude to dig in on his girl. Shit, Blu would talk shit even before we were married and I’d be the good guy because she was so damn fine. But soon as I heard she was going to some damn therapy I went off on her ass. I told Blu that was bullshit because I couldn’t see my wife talking to another dude about home. Now I consider that might be the reason why Blu went to the drugs.