I’d put my phone on silent at dinner just to be on the safe side. If it went off too much Rasheed would get jealous and start to question who was texting or calling me. He did so much dirt on a regular basis that it actually started to make him insecure. We’d then end up arguing and he’d stake out the house, waiting to see if anyone came or went and accuse me of cheating. Next thing you’d know I’d be out of another damn BlackBerry and he’d be using it all as an excuse to hide out at the club with his skanks. I knew his phone was on silent and I honestly didn’t care, but if I didn’t get him just a little riled up I couldn’t guarantee that he’d drop me off and leave like he did.
I fished my phone out of my slate and black Christian Louboutin purse. You’d think a bag that cost over $3,000 would at least offer you the luxury of a cell phone slot. I’d only missed two calls from Ris. I grabbed my keys and was happy that it wasn’t too hot or humid out, otherwise I’d feel the need to take another shower. I got into my car and immediately pressed the phone button.
“Call Ris. Cell.” Everything was voice controlled from the radio to the navigation.
“Girl, yo’ ass betta be on the fuckin’ way or I’m gonna go the hell off an’ I ain’t playin’!”
“Hi, sweetie, I’m sorry I’m running a little behind. Trey was fussy so I had to stay and calm him down. I’m on my way right now.” Larissa couldn’t stand when I stood her up, or put Rah before her. In her eyes, she’d stood by me and helped me in so many ways that she trumped any situation that involved him. It definitely wouldn’t help right now if she knew I was late because of his ass.
“Aww, how is my li’l punkin? Chelly, I’ve already started drinkin’, so ya ass gonna have to play catch up!”
“Catch up my ass! Where are we going? You know I’m not drinking all like that if I’m driving.”
“It’s a surprise! I need to get you out from under ya mufuckin’, turd-ass, no-good nigga of a baby daddy, so you can see there’s more to life than dealin’ wit’ bullshit ereday!”
In a sense, Ris was right. How long could I go on brushing aside the lies and the deception? I’d been dealing with his bullshit so long that it really was starting to become a normal part of life for me. I was not getting any younger, and one of my biggest fears was to be stuck with more kids than I could handle and an MIA baby daddy. I honestly didn’t need to have this conversation right now. I just wanted to get a little wasted and enjoy a much needed break from Rasheed and Trey.
“Ris, I’ll be there in a few. Do you look like a hoochie, because I’m wearing Valentino and this shit is expensive so I’m not changing.” If I gave her a heads-up on how I was dressed, then she’d have plenty of time to go switch up her outfit. Sometimes Ris got a little too carried away and her looks usually bordered on partially naked or totally hooker.
“Girl, I look damn good an’ that’s all ya ass needs to know. Somebody otha than me need to enjoy this muthafuckin’ view!”
We laughed and I ended the call, curious as to where the hell this girl was going to have me tonight. It was always a mystery or a surprise with her. I sighed and checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. Yes, I too was looking damn good. If Rah wasn’t going to appreciate all this, I needed to go be up in someone’s face who would.
* * *
Ris dragged me nearly forty-five minutes across town to these huge Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous–looking mansions somewhere in Portsmouth. Some random music producer she knew had invited her to a pool party, and so here we were.
I stared through my windshield in awe at the massive structure in front of us and my eyes widened at the array of candy-colored Bentleys and Lamborghinis in the circular driveway. The house was buzzing with activity and there was an eclectic mixture of hood rats, video chicks, and everything in between all over the place. I suddenly felt completely out of my element in my designer skirt and blouse. Ris, on the other hand, blended in perfectly with the scantily clad, too-tight miniskirts, barely there see-through tops, and six-inch-plus stiletto crowd.
“What’s the matter, momma?” Ris was lookin’ over at me calmly; she already knew I was uncomfortable. She’d known me long enough to be able to read the slightest changes in my mood.
“Ris, you know I’m not into this kind of stuff. I mean look at me. I’m not even dressed right.”
“Chelly, you trippin’! You look good, an’ if any of these hoes trip or act siddity, you already know I’ll bust a bitch to the white meat! Besides, I’m gonna say I’m a singer an’ you can pretend you’re my lawyer.” She hit me with her “I’m a genius” smile and blew me a play kiss. I raised my eyebrow and figured what the hell. Life wouldn’t be life without Ris.
I inched my car slowly into the driveway, amid the luxury vehicles and, for once, I was thankful for Rah’s flamboyance. My gold Mercedes SL500 blended in perfectly with all the other high-profile vehicles. I could tell Ris felt like a star pulling up in class, while a lot of the girls teetered on the edge of cute and about to bust they ass as they trotted up from hoopties parked up and down the street.
I parked and was doing my best to boost my self-confidence as I climbed out of my car.
Ris needed no esteem booster at all. She climbed out looking like a million dollars and poised herself, as if she really were some charismatic singing diva.
“What the fuck? Asshole!” All attention shifted to the street as two girls were nearly mowed down by a black BMW speeding past.
“Well, aren’t we a classy bunch?” I laughed and was turning toward Ris when something caught my attention in the direction the car had sped from. Ris must have noticed at the same time I did.
“That muthafucka wouldn’t have the nerve!” She’d blurted out loud the exact words I’d silently screamed in my mind. Sitting in the driveway of an adjacent mansion across the street was Rah’s all-white unmistakable LFA. He was the only one in the area with one, and definitely the only one with all-white everything, from the interior to the rims. My heart sank in my chest as I saw him on the porch hugging, even from this distance, who appeared to be an obviously beautiful Spanish woman. The image seared itself into my brain and I took in all the details from the package in his hands to the overly friendly way she beckoned for him to come inside. I could see why he was obviously in such a rush to get dinner over with.
He was too excited to get to “work.”
All in a Day’s Work
8
I’d never minded makin’ a delivery to Solana. Her and her husband were my favorite clients. Solana was a hot-tempered Latina, who didn’t take shit off no one, and had to be one of the sexiest olive-skinned, blue-eyed women I’d ever seen in my life. The first time we all met, I was actually more intimidated than a mufucka. I’d gotten a call for a big delivery and was immediately suspicious. The DEA’ll try all kindsa shit to get a nigga caught up out here, and them livin’ in the middle of rich white suburbia ain’t have me too thrilled, either.
I remember pullin’ up and seein’ this short, stocky monster of a Mexican mufucka wit’ a neck thicker than my thigh and arms the size of tree trunks. He was known only as Miho, Solana’s husband, and a professional stuntman. The two of them liked to party, and by party I mean do a helluva lot of coke and smoke weed. Hell, we all got bills to pay. I liked to consider myself a supply manager and that jus’ happened to be how I paid mine.
I made the trip across town in record time, stoppin’ by my high rise along the way to pick up a key of my finest powder. The normal shit went for roughly thirty Gs a key, but this was Primo, purest shit on the market. It was an easy $60,000. I pulled up to the gate jus’ as an all-black BMW 745i with pitch-black limo dark tint was pullin’ out. The car slowed to a stop beside mine, blarin’ salsa music loud enough to be heard outside the car. The odors of weed and heavy aftershave hit me square in the face as the window rolled down revealing Miho, cheesin’ at me like a damn kid at Christmas from behind a pair of dark Gucci shades.
“Hey, vato! You bring that thing for m
y baby? She’s inside, go in!” He insisted on yellin’ over the damn music rather than turnin’ that shit down, but that was Miho for you. Loud, obnoxious, and simply not givin’ a fuck.
“Hey, from the smella thangs I need to be rollin’ with chu, partna! I thought I told ya easy wit’ the aftershave, one splash is enough, nigga! Damn!”
“Oh, no, hombre. It’s hater repellent, so chu must be a hater! And chu already know chu can’t ride wit’ me. Black people are cop magnets!”
Gravel flew in all directions as he sped past me, laughin’ out the window before I could get back at his ass. I drove up and parked in the courtyard right in front of the house. I’d concealed the coke in a white cake box. Grabbin’ the cake box out of my trunk, I made my way up the massive front steps.
I was about to ring the doorbell when the huge door swung open. Wrapped in a bright gold thigh-length leopard-print robe, Solana posed for me in the doorway like a 1950s pinup girl. Her thick, dark hair was pinned up wit’ spirals fallin’ around her face an’ neck. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Solana knew the effect she had on mufuckas, and I was sure she was gettin’ a kick outta makin’ a nigga speechless. My eyes were drawn to her cherry-red lips an’ . . . My thoughts were interrupted by her heavily accented English.
“Poppi, chu have a present for me, yes?” She tilted her head to the side an’ raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, peering at me through huge blue eyes and long, dark lashes.
I held the cake box up and nodded, still tryin’ to find my voice. “Sí, you know I got you. Even added a li’l extra since y’all my best clients.”
She smiled and gave me a huge warm hug, and then stepped to the side and waved her arm in a gesture for me to come in. The air was thick from way too much weed smoke and a swarm of Nag Champa incense she’d lit all over the place. Solana closed the front door behind me. There was no light source in the room; all of the windows were covered in thick expensive drapes, and I could make out candles as my eyes adjusted. Taking the box out of my hands, Solana glided over and perched on a white leather couch in front of a coffee table.
“Please, sit with me. Would chu like aqua or something?” She was settin’ the coke out on the table and spreadin’ out lines.
“Solana, ma. I can’t stay. I’ve got business to take care of.”
She leaned forward an’ quickly made the first white line disappear up her pretty, bronzed nostril. Flinging her head back, she motioned for me to come do a line.
This was our custom; if it were anyone else I would have said hell no. The cool leather was feather soft as it sank beneath me. I took the rolled-up hundred dollar bill from between her long, manicured fingers. Leaning forward I did my line jus’ as quickly as she had, closing my eyes and leaning my head back. I let myself relax, enjoyin’ the familiar tingle that started at the top of my head and worked its way down my body. The thing with coke is that it’s well known for makin’ women horny as hell. I was pro’ly one of the few niggas in the world it had that affect on as well. My lips had started tinglin’, more so than any other part of my body. I opened my eyes and my dick reacted before my brain even caught up. Solana was kissin’ me, timidly, soft enough for my high ass to think it was jus’ the coke affectin’ me.
My senses felt heightened. I could smell everything from the incense to the fresh scent of Solana’s shampoo, down to the slightest hint of her arousal. The heat from her skin radiated toward me and I could feel myself gettin’ hot in return. My heart thundered in my chest and I focused on kissin’ her back, losin’ all the sense of urgency to leave that I’d felt earlier. She pulled back from my lips and eyed me intently; she was so close I could see the traces of powder that lightly dusted her nose. She half whined, half pleaded with me.
“Please, poppi, stay a little while. I’ve missed my black mamba.” She accentuated her request with a pretty pout.
Black mamba was her pet name for daddy dick. The first time she called me that shit I thought she was jus’ usin’ that name ’cause I’m black; hell, I almost got offended. Never knew it was a damn type of snake ’til she broke it down for me. There was no way I was gonna disappoint her tonight. I did another line and felt energized. This shit was good!
“Bring ya fine ass here an’ call me that poppi shit some more.” Yo, I was higher than a kite and ’bout to lay into one of the most beautiful women in the world. My life was fuckin’ perfect sometimes. Grabbin’ Solana by the hair, I pushed her roughly from the couch onto the floor and clumsily fell with her. Thankfully our landing was cushioned by the thick carpeting. I’d managed to wedge myself in between her long, lean legs. Her robe had slid off of her shoulders, exposing tight pink rosebud nipples. I quickly drew one into my mouth and flicked my tongue across it. Solana moaned somethin’ in Spanish and tried to reach the button on my pants. I grabbed her hands, pinnin’ them above her head.
“You let poppi run this, ma. Relax,” I told her. I was leanin’ in to kiss her when a noise behind me caught my attention. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Miho’s figure in the doorway. He’d been watchin’ us.
“Damn, did you two start the party without me?” A thick white cloud of blunt smoke accented his words and he silently walked over and took a seat on the couch above us.
“Ay dios mio, Miho! Debes estar bromeando! Chu have to be kidding me!” Eyes ablaze, Solana was glaring up over my shoulder at Miho. She always said things twice when she was angry, once in Spanish and again in English. I guess it was for emphasis, but to my nigga ears it was the sexiest soundin’ shit in the world. I ground my hips to regain her attention.
“Poppi, chu don’t understand. He promised me at least half an hour.” Solana was spoiled rotten and used to havin’ her way. She was poutin’ up at me, and I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her hard, ignorin’ Miho altogether.
Takin’ a few hits from his blunt, he replied in that weed voice niggas use when they try to talk durin’ an inhale.
“Mami, if chu want to play, we play by my rules, an’ I can change them whenefer I choose.” He coughed and muttered, “An’ I choose to watch. Chu already know this.” Miho sat back and crossed his arms over his chest as if he was provin’ his point. His hand sliced through the air, motionin’ for us to continue.
I was too high and too horny to care. I kept Solana’s wrists hostage in one hand and undid my pants with the other. It was time to put in a li’l work. Solana’s moans were the only thing I focused on as I handled my business right in front of her husband. She and Miho were bona fide real-deal swingers. Why the hell you think they my favorite clients? Miho was cursed wit’ da baby dick so ere now and again he liked to watch me blow Solana’s back out. Hell, I had a li’l exhibitionist in me. I didn’t mind him watchin’, long as he didn’t come at me sideways. He was so infatuated with her that he actually gave her the okay to fuck otha niggas. I couldn’t knock him for it. Solana was one bad mufucka.
No News is Good News
9
The sound of a street sweeper woke me up out of a light sleep. I couldn’t have slept more than two hours the whole night. Michelle wasn’t even a problem. I had to smile at myself for that bottle of Nuvo I had sent over to our table at dinner last night. My good girl only drank on special occasions, and even then it’s only that light-weight girly shit like fuzzy navels or wine spritzers. The last time I got her twisted, I ended up with a son. She woke up when I came in just long enough to ask where I’d been and seemed content when I reminded her that I needed to deliver a package.
Just thinkin’ about the ride home from the restaurant had my shit gettin’ hard all over again. I was on the highway, eyes half closed, fightin’ the itis extra hard. Michelle had kicked off her heels and had started runnin’ her nails up and down the side of my neck. She always knew how to get me started. Next thing I knew she was leanin’ over the center console and tellin’ me, “Thank you for a lovely dinner.” With every lick I could hear the wetness and feel the heat from her lips wrapped around my dick. Every now and again s
he would hum just a li’l, and I swore the vibration would run from my toes up to my damn eyebrows. Yeah, you got a few drinks in her and she started cravin’ daddy dick. She the only bitch I’d ever known who get off from givin’ head. That’s one of the reasons she’d always been number one.
Michelle had already left, and she always took li’l man to daycare on her way to work. The house was quiet, givin’ me time to go over my plan. You know what they say: “If you fail to plan, you are plannin’ to fail.”
That’s the only reason I’d made it this long without gettin’ picked up. After I got home last night I slipped Michelle’s driver’s license out of her purse. She didn’t buy liquor and she damn sure betta not get pulled over for drivin’ crazy with my son in the car. Outside of those reasons I couldn’t see her checkin’ for it all day.
I made my way into the other room to get her Social Security card out of the strong box. I was on my way into the kitchen when my phone buzzed again. I pulled it out of my pocket and slid my finger across the screen to enter my unlock code and check my texts. I’d only made the mistake once of trustin’ a bitch around my phone. When a nigga was a young dude still new to the game, I was laid up with one of my old fuck buddies. She ain’t know she was just pussy. Yo, I had this girl buyin’ me shit, holdin’ my stash; if you asked her she’d say she was wifey. Long story short, I woke up with this ho sittin’ on my chest like on some shit straight outta a movie. She’d looked in my phone while I was asleep and saw I had four other bitches just like her and went the fuck off.
Baby Momma Saga Page 5