“As I said, wasn't expecting you,” I snap, instead of the hope that was just in my tone of voice. Santi isn’t here for fun, I can tell so now I’m bored. Most of the people and mi familia have turned against me for having a baby out of wedlock. It's even worse that Lorenzo doesn't claim the child.
Santiago takes the cigar from his mouth, and asks, “Why aren’t you somewhere fucking with my nephew?”
“Santi, I’ve tried to talk to Lorenzo, show him the baby, and if he finally asks for a DNA test…”
Santiago reaches over, Armani shoes crunching on empty beer cans as he grabs my throat. “Why-aren’t-you-somewhere-fucking-with-my-nephew? Is that easier to understand? A bitch like you always did well with a black eye and a busted lip.” He balls his other hand and jabs toward me, laughing when I flinch.
“Maybe I should have named him Santiago Junior? Oops, there’s already one of those too, just like there’s a Lorenzo Junior.” I feel so foolish. Yes, I am used to being hit. So what? Santiago needs me. “My parents would probably be even more disappointed if my bastard child was yours because everybody in this stupid town loves Mayté!”
My throat is constricted even more as he squeezes. My head hits the wall with a thud as Santiago pins me up.
Lorenzo Junior begins to cry.
“Tell that little bastard to shut the fuck up!”
I gasp for air as Santiago lets me go. Hands out to brace myself, I fall to the dirty wood floor. Coughing roughly, I try to massage my throat.
“So you aren't going to shut that baby up?” Santi asks as he starts down the hall.
“Wait!” I screech. For the first time in my life, my motives aren't solely for me as I gather the strength to get up. When I get to the bedroom Santiago is holding my baby. My throat burns as it fills with vomit. This sick muthafucka has my son sucking on the barrel of his gun like it's a bottle.
“Look at this innocent little fucker. He’s hungry, eh? You wanna chew on a magnum bullet, you stupid lil’ fucker.” Santiago laughs.
I look from my hungry baby. He’s just started to eat more, starting to gain weight. “Santi, please. I love my baby.”
“The lil’ fucker does look like my son. You know if I knew 100 percent that this was Lorenzo’s bastard, he'd be sucking on blood and a bullet, right now,” Santi tells me with the devil in his eyes.
The doorbell rings.
“Go see who it is,” Santiago orders.
I stare at him still holding my child even though he's put his gun away. My body can’t move. I’ve been beaten, kicked, and abused before, but I’ve never been so afraid in my life. Life has become lonely since having Lorenzo Junior. But just talking to him, and the few times I felt like singing, somehow I have bonded with LJ. I do love my baby. My first thought is to grab something hard, and beat this man.
“Do it, Olivia!” Santiago snaps. “Realize that your facial expression is totally reasonable. Keep fucking playing games with me.”
After a few more seconds, I step back into the hall and look out the window. “It's Rockwell and that girl. One of Lorenzo's sisters. The mean one... I think her name is Blu,” I tell Santiago, deftly pushing the drapes back down without them seeing me peek.
“Don’t make my niece wait!” Santi argues.
Looking at him holding my baby makes my throat burn with throw up. I start to the door. Tears pool into my eyes as I open it. I'm standing here looking like somebody's mistress with half my breasts out. Rockwell pauses, staring at me. Sizing me up, I can tell Rockwell is one of those sweet ones that I always didn't understand.
It's as if she wants to know why I'm crying and then remembers me as the bitch that tried to come between her and Lorenzo. If only she knew. So I stand here and wait. Rockwell finally gets past the shock, and with a nudge from Blu, she tells me off. I’m to stay away from her dude. Her Lorenzo Junior is the only Lorenzo Junior. Blu threatened to kill me, and then they’re headed back to a Camaro. I can’t even feel humiliated because I run back to the bedroom.
Santiago is sitting in the rocking chair, tapping his impatient fingernails against his knee. “See, if this lil’ fucker is mine, don’t say I didn’t do anything for him.”
“Where is my son!” I shout.
“Sleep,” Santiago gets up with a toothy grin.
I walk to my baby’s crib and peek over the white wood planks. My baby is wrapped up in so many blankets, that I quickly move them and touch his fragile little body. It’s still warm. His breath is shallow as usual.
“Now get up and entertain your guest,” Santiago orders, “Make me happy, so you can afford to feed your child. Next step? Get Lorenzo back and you’ll be set for life.”
Chapter 61
POPEYE.
My eyes open to pitch black night. Going at it blind, I reach for my gat on the bedside table. Before I can cock the hammer, Blu’s psychotic ass is saying, “So you still gon’ leave tomorrow?”
“Man,” I sit up, yawn and think twice before putting my gun back down.
My wife has pulled up the chair by the door, looking like she’s been posted here for a cool minute. Shit ain’t no telling how long Blu has been quietly watching me. I’m a hundred percent certain I had locked the muthafuckin’ door before going to bed.
“So you’re just done?” she asks unexpectedly.
“Yeah ma,” I yawn again.
“You could give a fuck about me?” Blu murmurs.
“Blu, if you need me, I'm here. Let’s not even go into how long I’ve been tryna be that type of man for you instead of a typical ass nigga,” shrugging I add, “So I’ma step off. I'm done being a lame over yo’ ass.”
“A lame?” She leans back, folds her arm. Even with that mean mug, you tell me why I'm still attracted to Blu’s sexy face?
“Yup. I didn't save you. Can't apologize for that shit no more ma.”
She mumbles something.
“Girl, speak yo’ peace so I can go back to bed.”
“Don't nobody won't or need no damn apology,” she snaps.
I start to lie back down.
“So this is the end of us?”
Is this trick out of her mind? “Blu, what the fuck do you want from me?”
“Nothing! Just take your punk ass home. Go, but you can't have my kid.”
“Okay ma. You always want to make shit hard. I'll get a lawyer and we can have them chat for us. Do it like… white people do. You won't ever have to speak to me, won’t have to see me again. But know this, I’ma always be in touch with my son.”
“But you ain't gon’ fight for Phillip?” She stands up wide-legged like this means war.
I chuckle, knowing she wants an argument. The words coming out of her mouth don’t even make sense. “Good night, my pretty, insecure, dumb Blu.”
“Good night, Mr. Limp Dick… won't fight for your own. Want to get a lawyer to do your work huh? You a scary ass no good nigga!”
Man this girl won't even let me retreat inside of my head. She gets louder and louder. I get ready to tell her Phillip is going to wake up, but he in the main house sleep in front of a television with his cuzzo, Lorenzo Junior.
“Popeye, you can't do shit. Can't keep a woman. Last bitch was telling my son that I wasn't shit and you too stupid to know. Because you was running around being dumb off the pussy. You wasn’t a good daddy! You wasn't shit.”
She continues to pop off at the mouth, but doesn’t notice till I’m up in her face. My hand grips Blu’s long ponytail. “Mommi come again? What kinda nigga am I?” I pull so hard that her neck is straining and she can barely speak.
Chapter 62
BLU
“What kinda nigga is you? So you didn't hear me?” It's difficult to roll my neck in this position as Popeye grips my ponytail so hard. So I roll my eyes instead. Don’t ask what my objective is. How do I gain with arguing with this man that no longer loves me? Maybe when Popeye leaves I will feel all kindsa wrong for banging on him, especially when he’s the world’s best father. It’s
just that, seeing Rockwell go tell Olivia to stay away from Lorenzo made me feel like I need to fight for what’s mine.
Since I was a kid I would fight for what I want. Mouth? No Brakes. Fists? No brakes. These days I’ve kept my mouth shut. Keandre and Patrol made me reevaluate my actions. No more drugs. Hell, not even a lil’ kush. I’m trying to get closer to God, but I still need Popeye by my side.
I’ve prayed that we could work things out. And this nigga is leaving me.
“Blu, what kinda nigga am I? You was popping off at the mouth two seconds ago?” Popeye glares at me, he gives my ponytail another little yank. “Bitch, speak your muthafuckin’ mind!”
“Okay, you my nigga that's what!” I reach around and try to grab his face, but Popeye turns his head as I try to kiss him.
“Fucking crazy ass –”
“Yup. I’m crazy enough to know that I ain’t living without you! I’ve had you and I’ve been stupid for three years. Missed time with you and Phillip, so you ain’t going nowhere!” I try again and he finally lets my hair go. For a second I stand there, chest heaving and scared, but I say, “I am so in love with you, Popeye.”
Popeye takes a step back and shakes his head, “Blu, stop with the bullshit. Ma, you ain’t in love with me. Maybe never was.”
With my hands free I grab his dick. “Popeye you my nigga forever. You understand.” I massage at it and he almost falls on the bed trying to get away.
Yeah maybe I've gone mad. Maybe I've said the craziest evil shit to get his attention, but I drop down and wrap my legs around his waist. Damn, I used to do these leg presses, always upping the weight, but now I need to hold this nigga down forever. I’d be dead if he goes.
“Popeye, you still have your wedding ring. I just saw it in the top drawer, nigga so act like–”
He flips me over and gets up.
“Blu,” his hands raise in the air, “Man, stop acting crazy!”
“No. I love you, Popeye!” On my knees, I hurry toward the edge of the bed.
“You just called me all kindsa disrespectful, unforgivable shit–”
“I lied, don’t leave me…” I grab his face, tryna kiss his lips I get all stubble chin. “Popeye I love you, baby, I love you!”
Finally our lips meet. My tongue forces its way into his mouth, and I almost cry when my nigga doesn’t push me away anymore. Popeye begins to kiss me back. My baby tongues me down with a vengeance, making up for lost time.
“You the best nigga any bitch could ever want…any woman,” I say in between kisses and pulling his pants down.
“Yeah, ma,” he bites my neck and tears my wife beater down the middle, pulling out one of my B-cup breasts to suck on.
“Popeye wait–”
My mind goes blank as this nigga grips the dick with both hands. I mean man… who could think when the anaconda comes out. Before I can drop to my knees, Popeye picks me up by my waist, and pushes me onto his shoulders. He chows down on the kitty for a minute then pushes me back on the bed.
After tonguing Popeye down and slurping up my own juices from his coochie lips, I suck on his bottom lip and let my tongue continue to twirl with his. I shoulda told him my dilemma from jump. But I was embarrassed. Scared.
His arms wrap around me so tightly. Can't nothing come between us. Not even fear of the future as he kisses me so hard.
We stop smooching for a nanosecond as Popeye drops his draws. He tears my thong off. His dick plunges straight into this honeypot. My nigga fucks me for the first time like this is our first time. Got me loving every inch of his dick. Going diving and exploring all the soft gooeyness my pussy has to offer. He continues to hold on to me. Places my hands over his shoulders and keeps at it. Then he reaches down to me. More assurance comes as he bestows my mouth with kisses.
Can we love stronger, harder than this moment?
Nah.
“Popeye...” I sigh his name. It feels too good can't barely even speak as he kisses my forehead and releases inside of me. My body stiffens and I start sniffling as an orgasm of my own roars through me at the same time. Popeye rolls off of me and lays right next to me, as tears of joy burn my eyes.
“Damn ma, this the only time yo’ evil ass cries,” he says, reaching an arm around me and scooting me closer.
“Shuddup,” I reply, embarrassed. Nothing left to do but lay in this beautiful lovemaking and cry delirious happy tears.
Chapter 63
ROCKWELL
Blu told me that I did good by telling off Olivia. Maybe since my mom’s death I've been simping. Oh hell, I’m not cut out for telling off no irrelevant bitches. Yet, it took every ounce in me to put that bitch in her place. Not sure why, but I felt sorry for Olivia.
When Blu and I got back home, I had looked at my play sister like it was her turn to get some act right. Now, I’m rummaging through the fridge for a bottle of half empty Pinot, I silently head up the stairs wondering if this will be the life.
Me and Blu, or rather, Blu’s crazy ass making me tell my nigga’s hoes to bow out. I guess with time, I’ll get harder, colder. At that thought, I uncork the wine to take a sip. “I’ma need something stronger for this type of mentality,” I murmur to myself at the top of the landing. I peep in on Lorenzo Junior’s room. He and Phillip are there and knocked out. They both take turns spending the night back and forth here and at the pool house.
“Aye Mommi,” Renzo’s sexy Latin accent twines around my broken spirit. I turn around as he stands near the twin’s bedroom door. He’s got baby Lila, wrapped up in his arm. So adorable in her pink pajamas yet as tiny as a football within his big bicep. “The boys played football today. I might have to buy an NFL team when they get older.”
“Buy a team?” I smile, coming toward him. Johnson and Johnson lotion envelops me as I step over to kiss my baby. Then I reach onto my tippy toes. My lips caress Lorenzo’s. This is the type of nigga that gets exactly what he wants. Whether it is me and our children, or Olivia and the other Lorenzo Junior.
We step into the girls’ room, Lorenzo quietly tells me how Lila refuses to fall asleep. Tho he says how tired he is, my nigga is bragging about our beautiful baby. Then he looks over at me at the wine in my hand, “Lil’ mama speak.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t tell me no, girl.”
This dude knows me more than I know myself. So I cock an eyebrow, telling him, “Bae, I went to see your baby mama.”
“My baby mama, damn,” Lorenzo chuckles at that. He kisses Lila on her chubby caramel cheek then says something in her ear. Our baby looks like the Gerber baby with a tan, as she grins. I wave him off and turn around to leave.
“Aye, don’t walk away from me.” Lorenzo switches from loving father to the type of nigga that demands loyalty–without dishing it–in just seconds.
“What are you telling our child? To get used to men like you?” I ask, hands on my hips. Maybe I’m taking this a little too far, but with Renzo I’ve always had a mouth. He made me spoiled as a kid so oh well.
“The fuck is wrong with you, Rocky? Don’t say that bullshit to our baby.” Lorenzo tries to place Lila in her crib, but soon as her body touches the expensive mattress, she begins to cry. He picks her up quickly so as not to awaken Lisa.
My hair flips around as I turn back to him. Hand up for emphasis I say, “Well I’m Lila’s mom. I can say what I want. Besides, I went through hard labor with the twins. Not you. Nigga, you can go planting your seed around like it’s fucking spring time and I’m supposed to just take care of home?”
“So it’s like that, ma? You wanna take it there while I’m tryna put the baby to sleep.”
“Renzo, ” I sigh. “I wasn’t even fucking with you, papi. You’re the one that has to know everything–the baby is sleep.” I head for the door, adding, “FYI: Next time your baby mama steps out her lane, I’ma let one of your goons handle that. You’re going to have to figure out what to do with the other Lorenzo Junior. He ain’t coming here.”
Lorenzo glar
es at my deadly look. Yup, I can play dirty too. I might not be able to pull the trigger, but my nigga has so many cartel thugs hanging around. He nods his head, with a hard frown on his face.. Then he turns around to settle Lila in her crib. I’m out the door with the quickness for just threatening his bitch’s life. Yeah, he’s pissed. I look over my shoulder but Renzo isn’t following.
I’ down the rest of the Pinot Noir and my body is dripping wet from the hot shower I just took by the time Lorenzo steps into the bathroom mentioning Lisa woke up soon as Lila went to sleep. Biting my lip, I grab a plush towel while waiting for him to have his say. I start to wrap it around my body, but Lorenzo does it for me. My nigga grips both edges of the towel if it’s leverage to keep me stuck with only him as an exit.
“First of all Rocky, you don’t speak to my team, not one muthafuckin’ word.” He begins, and my eyes cut at him. “If I see them open their mouth to you and it wasn’t a direct order from me, or their telling you to duck for some apparent dangerous reason, then you ain’t getting nobody bodied but the goon that chose to address you. You belong to me, Rocky. Don’t fucking buck up on a nigga,” Lorenzo says, holding my jaw so hard that my lips pucker. If I can only count how many times this nigga has said he owns me. He kisses my bottom lip then bites it, sending thrills down to my love box.
“Got that, Rocky?” Lorenzo’s hands grip harder on my cheeks.
I sneer at him. Then I’m almost confused when Lorenzo drops the towel from around me. “¿Así que quieres ser terco?–So you want to be stubborn? Huh, ma?”
“Renzo, you know I don’t understand you,” I snap, rolling my neck. Lorenzo grabs my wrists behind my back like he’s the police and steps me out of the bathroom to the edge of the lounge chair in our bedroom. I’m low key still irritated at how bossy this dude is but he has me spread in a wide leg stance like he’s the fucking police so some part of me is feigning for the dick.
“Ma, do you want one of my soldiers life’s on your hands?” he asks harshly in my ear while pulling down his jeans. I don’t even reply. But my ass cheeks melts against his rock hard dick and I’m in heaven.
Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug 2 (Loving a Columbian Cartel Thug) Page 16