“Baby, you play wit’ it an’ I’ll give you another three grand.”
Cringing, I tried to hear the words over the stank comin’ out of his mouth. Play with what? was the first thought that echoed in my brain, but I already knew what the hell he meant. Lania said the girls who sucked, fucked, and did extras made the extra money, but my ass had never even seen a real dick let alone touched one. I shook my head no and watched the stage, silently kissing the thought of $6,000 good-bye.
Once again, “Yuck-Mouf ” was assaultin’ the side of my face, whispering loud as hell, about to melt the fake eyelashes off of my damn eyelids.
“C’mon, can’t nobody see up here; it’s dark.”
I heard the zipper of his pants slide down. “Gimme yo’ hand, baby. It’s three thousand more. Easy money. Make Daddy D happy, baby.”
Maybe it’s because my ass was high and I just wanted this muthafucka to stop whisperin’ air shit all upside my damn head. I closed my eyes and let him take my hand. I was trying to tell myself it was just like one of our straps at home. But nah, our straps ain’t got super nappy taco meat hair all around ’em and fat rolls. It was like trying to grab a hold of a short-ass soggy eggroll. Darnell kept his hand over mind, directin’ it up and down until his li’l eggroll firmed up. I tried to watch the actors and shit on stage and think about what I’d cook for dinner tomorrow—anything but what the fuck was going on with my other hand.
I almost gagged when I felt his mouth brush the side of my neck. He was breathin’ vapors of shit fumes right into my damn hair. He started to move my hand faster. I felt like either we was gonna start a forest fire or Indian burn the skin off his dick, and then his body jerked like he was having muscle spasms and charley horses at the same time. Snatching my hand back from beneath his I cringed, trying to find some place to wipe away the slimy, hot mass of yuck that was now sliding down my fingers toward my wrist.
“Honey, you are amazing. Hold on a sec, baby. I got a handkerchief for you.” He handed me the small piece of white cloth and I wiped my hand, still feeling like I needed to scour that muthafucka in bleach.
When the play ended Darnell walked me to my car and climbed into the back with me to pay me out for the night. He started to hand me six thousand, but when I reached for it he pulled it back.
“Ten if we fuck.”
What the hell? If this old raggedy stank-breath nigga ain’t give me my damn money . . . His ass was looking like he just knew I was about to say yes, too. “Sorry, Darnell, I don’t have sex.”
His droopy face scrunched up in anger. “Stuck-up bitch. You gon’ regret that shit.”
Money flew all around the back seat. He’d thrown all $6,000 at my face and slammed out of the car. Lania’s driver looked back at me through the rearview mirror.
“You okay back there? Not too many girls tell Darnell no.”
“Guess my ass ain’t too many girls, huh?”
He smiled and handed me a few of the hundreds that had managed to land up in the front with him, and I texted Lania to let her know everything went well, and she replied fast as hell.
Good I have another one for you tomorrow night if you’re up to it?
I stared at the message. She didn’t get a cut of any of the money earned from the extra shit I decided to do. So minus her little thousand, I was up $5,000 for just one night’s worth of work. Not bad, even though I had to touch that nigga’s nasty-ass li’l sausage dick. What the fuck, might as well get it while I can.
I’m up—down whateva lol.
We pulled back up at the house late as hell and I crept my ass inside. Michelle was still asleep on the couch where I’d left her ass, so I went upstairs and showered fast as hell and got my ass in bed like I’d been there all along. Damn, how the hell am I gonna get outta the house two nights in a row . . .
Special Delivery—Special K
43
Michelle went to work as usual and I had all day to plan a way to get ready for my second official day on the job. I didn’t know what time Lania would need me so I needed to figure out a way to get up outta the damn house without comin’ off kinda suspicious. The damn pill bottle only had two valiums left in it and if there was only one or none left up in there, who was the first person you think she’d look at? My ass. So the valiums were not an option. I texted Lania.
Don’t think I can do tonight. Put da wife to sleep and now I’m outta pills.
I stared out the kitchen window at the pool. Damn shame I ain’t never learn how to swim. That water was lookin’ nice as fuck and it was hot as hell outside. My phone beeped.
I’ll send Key over with somethin jus put a few drops of it on the brim of her glass or in the bottom—night night I promise.
No more than twenty minutes later the doorbell rang.
“Who’s at the door, Mommy? Who’s that?” Trey’s li’l nosey ass was all in the damn way.
“It’s ya damn daddy. Li’l nigga, it ain’t for you, now get the hell on upstairs before I beat yo’ li’l ass.”
I was surprised to see that Keyshawn actually brought me a signed ball.
“You remembered. Damn, thanks.” I was already tryin’ to figure out how much I could sell that shit on eBay for.
“Cute kid. He look jus’ like Michelle.”
I looked back. Trey was still at the top of the stairs. I frowned up at his ass, which sent him runnin’. “Whateva. Lania said you was bringin’ me somethin.” I ain’ have time to be dawdlin’ with this nigga. We walked into the livin’ room and he handed me a little brown bottle.
“It’s Special K, strong shit. You don’t need a lot; just a couple of drops or she could die okay?”
I nodded. “So what else can y’all get?” My weed stash was damn near gone, and if I was gonna be doin’ any more of these jobs, I was gonna need to re-up or somethin’ quick.
“We can get anything you want. Just say the word.”
Damn, I thought, now that is what the fuck I’m talkin’ about. Florida wasn’t looking so bad after all.
* * *
I walked in the house at my usual time and all was quiet, surprisingly. There was no sign of Larissa or the kids. I set my briefcase down and walked into the living room, no toys all over the place, no babies, no wife. This was strange. Kicking off my shoes I made my way into the kitchen, thinking everyone must be in there, but no, it was empty. I was shocked to see a plate sitting in the middle of the counter with a lonely tuna salad sandwich on it and a glass of iced tea beside it. There was no way I was eatin’ that shit. Larissa put so much sugar and sweet pickle relish in her tuna and chicken salad it’s a wonder she ain’t have diabetes by now. I would do that glass of tea though; that’s the only thing she made perfect. It was all impressive; maybe this was her way of saying sorry.
Sitting at the counter, I flipped through most of the day’s mail and drank my tea, wondering where everyone had wandered off to. I was halfway through with my glass when I thought I heard Lataya laughin’ upstairs, and I got up to go see what she was up to. The room swayed and it felt like I had the worst case of vertigo ever. Everything in the kitchen was rocking back and forth, and as hard as I tried I couldn’t focus my eyes on anything in the room. I fell down to my knees. My only option was to crawl to the stairs.
“Larissa.” Yelling, I waited down there like a damn invalid for her to come help my ass. Listening, I waited a few more minutes. Shit. The shower was running. The queen of forty-five-minute showers would not be coming to help my ass anytime soon. My eyes were rolling in my head every time I tried to look in any given direction, and, I mean, I’d had vertigo before, but never to this extreme. I pulled myself up the stairs one at a time, surprised I made it all the way to the bedroom without puking before I collapsed in the middle of the bed. The last thing I remembered was jasmine soap and body oil while Larissa stood over me, naked and wet, looking down at me, drying her hair with a towel. And then there was nothing.
Don’t Be Eyeballin’ Me, Mister
44
Hopefully this date would be more exciting than the last one. It was late, midnight when the car came to get me, and my ass was tired but ready to make this money. Lania said this dude was into some kinda kinky bondage-type shit so I put on an all-black cat suit.
The car let me out in front of nice hotel no more than twenty minutes from the house. This was a little too close to home for my taste, but Nino, this big-ass Italian muscle gorilla–looking muthafucka, one of Lania’s bodyguards, would be outside if I needed him and would be followin’ me back home, so fuck it, I was all in. Nino escorted me through the lobby up to room 376. He stood a few feet down the hall away from the door so he wouldn’t scare the client. Knockin’ on the door, I took a couple breaths ’cause I noticed my hand was shakin’. The door swung open and a tall shirtless white guy was standin’ there. He was tan as fuck. I mean so tan he looked brown and all the hair on his chest and on his head looked white.
“How you doin’, beautiful?” He had a friendly smile that made me feel comfortable, so I smiled back and walked in. He offered me a drink, but I turned it down as I was instructed.
“What would you like to do, um . . .” Embarrassed, I realized I couldn’t remember his damn name.
“Call me Leslie.”
I stared at him, ’cause I wasn’t sure if that was part of his fetish, but I was damn sure Leslie was a woman’s name.
“It’s a unisex name, darlin’.”
Damn can this muthafucka read minds, too? I besta stop thinkin’.
“Well, okay then, Leslie, you can call me Trista.” I made it up and cringed. I coulda come up with somethin’ better than that, but oh well.
“Okay, Trista. That’s fine an’ dandy, but I’ma call you Chocolate Thai. Now, c’mere. Take your clothes off.”
Did this bitch . . . I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be offended or if that was a racial thing, and, naked? I could have sworn Lania said he don’t do sex.
“C’mon now, Chocolate Thai. I ain’t got all night.”
“But, Leslie, I’m sure they told you I don’t have sex, right?” I was still close enough to the door that I could run my ass up outta there if I needed to.
“I’m sure they told you I like other things. Now. Naked. Here. Please.”
He stripped down to his ugly-ass tighty whities and lay across the bed and, fuck, if I ain’t feel stuck between a damn couple thousand and a hard Leslie. I took my shit off, gritting my teeth the whole time all the way down to my damn draws. If this fool tried to slide anything up in anywhere, I swear I was screamin’ for Nino so damn fast.
“Now, come over here, beautiful, and lemme see what Chocolate Thai taste like.” Ladies and gentlemen, when this fool said he wanted to see what it taste like, I kid you not . . . Climbin’ up on the bed, I’m preppin’ myself to ask his ass if he got a dental dam or some shit, ’cause he wasn’t ’bout to be puttin’ his mouth all over my pussy unprotected. Before I could get the words out he scooped my ass up—y’all know I’m small—and had me squattin’ over his face so he could rub his eyes, yes, his eyes, all up in my stuff. I could feel him blinkin’ and shit. His eyelashes were tickling the fuck outta me an’ I was tryin’ not to laugh while I just squatted there. His free hand was in his draws strokin’ away and I was just perched up there lookin’ around like what the fuck kinda freak nasty shit is this?
Easiest $8,000 I’ve ever made in my entire life.
Giving Me Head . . . Aches
45
Wakin’ up was hell. It felt like my arms and legs were disconnected from my head and my torso. I was all kinds of groggy and couldn’t remember why. Larissa and I hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other since Saturday night and not only was she being an asshole, but she was doing it in the most frustrating ways possible. Aside from her time with the kids she spent almost every day walking around the damn house butt-ass naked. I swear the woman was intentionally boycotting her damn clothing. There were times when I’d have to literally tell myself to close my mouth and stop staring. I was so sexually frustrated, I knew for a fact if you put me on a treadmill hooked up to a generator I could provide enough power to run half of Miami for at least a week. I was also having to either cook or order something because most of the time, aside from some tea or a sandwich, she was refusing to cook or lift a finger and I was starting to get beyond fed up with her bullshit.
Every day I’d been home from work on time and today would be the first day that I’d be late. I’d met with Jim Bartell from Strong Arm Security. Until Rah or whoever decided to show their face it just seemed like the logical thing to do. Jim was a much older white man with a leathery tan face, head full of white hair, and the clearest blue eyes I’d ever seen. He made it a point to come meet me at my office in case I was being followed. He didn’t want to raise any suspicion or draw the attention of whoever was harassing us. My meeting with him was a blur of paperwork and certifications, where I pretty much put the protection of my life and those of the Ris and the kids at the mercy of his security team. It cost an arm and a leg, but knowing that I’d have someone at the house around the clock in addition to someone trailing me wherever I went was a definite relief.
I’d purposefully been ignoring texts and phone calls from both Keyshawn and Lania. Their persistence was damn amazing. If the roles were reversed I’d have given up on myself by Tuesday. I was leaving the office as usual when my phone went off. It was a text from Keyshawn:
It’s Thursday, haven’t heard from you. Dinner party @ Curtis’ place Friday 9. Hope you’re a woman of your word. Would be honored if you’d make an appearance. Bring wifey if you’re feelin’ scary.
Damn. The nigga knew how to get my attention. I drove the rest of the way home silently debating whether I should stay or go, take Ris or leave her. There were just so many variables to consider. Was Lania going to be there? Was his entourage of random hoes going to be there? If I asked Key about any of them would it come across as strange? Would Lania act funny toward me since I’d pretty much shut her down and been brushing her off ever since?
My phone vibrated again, but it was Jim calling from the security company. I’d been waiting to hear back from him since setting everything up on Monday.
“Answer call.” I rarely used the in-car mobile audio feature but figured I’d might as well since I had it. “This is Michelle.”
“Michelle, this is Jim. How are ya?”
I smiled when I heard his heavy Southern accent; he sounded like a straight-up farm-raised country boy. “I’m doing well, thank you.”
“Good. I’ve been looking into yer situation. The bad news is Rasheed is no longer in custody in Virginia.”
My vision momentarily blacked out. If I weren’t sitting in traffic I might have crashed, or run off the highway at the sound of those words.
“Rasheed isn’t what? You mean transferred? Right? Jim?” I couldn’t even form a complete coherent sentence.
“Well, now, Michelle, I mean escaped.”
The depth of meaning behind those words alone threatened to swallow me alive.
“Apparently three weeks ago a female CO helped him escape. She’s been missing in action ever since. Suspected to either be out on the run with him or paid ’nuff to disappear. Put him in a K-9 trainin’ unit cage—pretended he was a sick dog, needed to see a vet. Guards on duty were useless pricks, didn’t even bother checkin’ the crate as required. She drove him out in the mornin’—they ain’ know ’til they did the night count.” My mind was reeling. God I felt like I was gonna be sick. I fought the urge to vomit and waited for Jim to continue. My worst nightmare was coming true.
“Now don’t panic. I want you to go ’bout yer business an’ keep livin’ as you normally would. Possum only play possum ’til you walk away. So we don’t want him to know we watchin’ you or the li’l ones.”
Did this muthafucka just say, “don’t panic”? I almost hysterically laughed out loud. He obviously didn’t know how calculating Rah was when it came to g
etting his revenge.
“Rasheed is a very dangerous man, Jim. As I told you before he’s just tormentin’ me right now. His revenge is never a pretty or fair thing.”
“I read his file, seen his face, I know what he’s done. My boys know exactly who they’re lookin’ fer an’ what kinda man they’re dealin’ with. We’ve protected folk from much more dangerous people than yer ordinary street thug, ma’am. All I’ma do is double up on yer security an’ there’s no extra charge fer that. There’s already a wanted bulletin out fer him across all states from Virginia all the way down here. The reward to turn ’im in is bigger than the payout fer helpin’ his ass, I can assure you that much.”
All the blood had drained from my hands, my grip was so tight on the steering wheel. I removed them and tried flexing my fingers. I took a few deep breaths and tried focusing on the traffic as it began to move ahead.
“Jim? I need somewhere to take my children. He isn’t going to want to hurt the kids. It’s jus’ me an’ my wife he’s really after. Do you have anywhere, like a safe house?” My voice was shaky from fear and from the tears I was fighting back. I refused to cry. I got myself into this shit, and I’d fight my way the fuck out of it.
“Well, yes, ma’am. I’ve got a few places—quieter than gerbil piss on cotton if ya know what I mean. They’re well off the grid, very limited access. Gonna take a li’l time tho’—gotta get y’all all clear. In the meantime please try ta relax. You hired some of the best men in the business, I swear on my own life. Summa my boys are retired Seals, Secret Service, and CIA. We ain’t lost a client yet and I don’t plan on losin’ one anytime soon, baby doll.”
I tried to find the reassurance that Jim was offering. He sounded like an overprotective older grandfather, talking to me like I’d just skinned my knee. But this was no skinned knee and I wasn’t his granddaughter; to him I was just another dollar. Shit, another couple thousand dollars a day, but you get my damn point.
“All right, Jim, I’m not gonna panic. I’m gonna do my best to trust you on this.” I was saying it more to convince myself than to convince him.
Baby Momma Saga Page 24