At the speed of light, Elson reached over and slapped the phone from my hand. His hand went to my hair harshly. He yanked down so hard that my chin flew up. Our eyes met. “Oh, you like this? Your mother likes it rough; I thought you were better than that bitch, ha ha. Speak!”
My glare matched his, but I didn’t have a word to say to him.
From down the hall my name was being called. Elson damn near jumped out of his skin to get up. We all knew mom’s routine, and this scary guy didn’t even look my way when my mom was around. He stopped dead in his tracks at the entrance of my 1250 square foot bedroom. Donning a new fur coat. Hair done. Nails check. Lipo check. My mother glared straight through him.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” She cocked her head for him to go and Elson hurried the hell out of my bedroom.
I reached onto the shiny wood floor to grab my phone but she shouted. “Don't you entertain enough at school? Why my husband too?”
“Your fucking husband? Are you fucking kidding me? Oh yeah, I led his short, butter teeth ugly ass into my bedroom alright. There's hundreds upon hundreds of rich young guys at my school why would I want to practice on him?”
“Yeah, sure. You want a grown man that can take care of you with more than his parent’s allowances.” Mom retorted.
“Bitch please. I own you!”
“Val? You own me?” She placed a manicured hand at her fake ass breast.
“Yes, I’ve owned you from day one. You were walking the streets of Bronx when you met my father.” I rolled my neck. “Shit I was your fucking annual income, health insurance. Shit all the fucking works. Now with Elson–“
“He's been your step father since you were five! Stop calling him Elson.”
“Yup. And he's been wanting this,” I said opening my legs, “since the day he set his eyes on me.”
“Cunt!” She started to back away.
“I'm going to see my dad!” I add.
My mom flies back into the room. That Bronx accent she’s been running away from is strong as she taunts, “How you gon’ get there?”
“Mimz sent me a plane ticket. I'm not stupid I heard your convo with my brother Makhi.”
“Who? Oh that other nigger? Valentine. Look you might be right about that big black gorilla. But the day I met Elson j stopped taking money from him. He's not your dad. Valentine McDowall. Elson is.”
I rolled my eyes and flipped her the bird...
~~~
That was just last week when I decided to come down to New Orleans for the Mack family reunion. Now here I am, standing in the hallway using Perce’s phone. I just got hung up on by my mom. I had reminded the bitch that I was only seventeen when she said for me to find my way back home and that I better not continue on to Los Angeles. DAMN! I thought the family reunion was out here, not in California! My mom fucked me over, saying not to go to the family reunion in Louisiana. That bitch knew that come hell or high water, I’d be attending this get together. Fuck going back to Manhattan.
As my anger begins to subside, I take in a deep lung full of air. Mmmm. I've been to New Orleans once to see Makhi and Paula. Technically I had run away from Elson but my mom had something to prove that weekend. She’d returned from Maui with her boyfriend, realized I was gone, and came to get me as if she finally gave a fuck about me.
But anyway, we had the best food of my life at this one restaurant. Now this little tiny shack that the Dubois' call a home has some nice aromatics going on. Wow, this shady dude was talking about he was going to take a shower after letting me inside. So I know exactly what he wanted. Sex. I guess my conversation with mom had me too heated to know that he’s in the kitchen cooking.
I get up and step down the hallway with its paint chip patches. It’s muggy near the bathroom entrance, so Perce must have taken a quick, hot shower, I consider while stepping into the kitchen. My stomach is tryna murder me already but I look around. It's a small room but the counters are clean and there's only a pile of old dishes in one of the sink sides. I ain't religious but I’m going to pray, and I’m going to eat.
Now, I’ve never dated or even looked a black man’s way–Drake doesn’t count, but Perce is fine, for a thug. He’s a mocha skin tone. In army polo, my eyes go straight to those tattoos woven up and down ripped arms. I’m partial to a man with long hair, but his cornrows are neat. A trimmed goatee frames the sexiest lips I’ve ever seen. Damn, I hadn’t been looking at him like that last night, not even when I arrived this morning. I was just angry while searching for family. Damn, my mouth waters, and this man can cook?
“Oh you cooked for us?” I ask, practically falling in love.
“Bitch, the fuck. Nah. I cooked period. I'm use to cooking a grip,” he shrugs mentioning his bros and pops.
“Bitch? How about Valentine or Val. Shit I'll even take broad, female.” I smirk. Never mind, he’s ugly. “Human...”
“Bitch the plates are up there,” Perce cocks his head to the side. “Like I said. This ain't no southern hospitality. So a nigga don't got one reason to serve you.”
Damn, for a second this evil muthafucka had me delirious. And I mean, bad, I want him so damn bad. I grab a plate and snatch up a large wooden spoon to start scooping up eggs. Instead of wanting him, I take on a serious tone as usual, “Actually, homie. You do have a reason to take care of me. So I’ll assume you must have forgotten our conversation at the door. You’re going to take care of me for your health.”
That has Perce on pause. He side eyes me as I get more andouille sausage than my prep school, mom, and additional etiquette courses would recommend.
“See,” I begin taking my plate to sit across from him. “You want to work on that health plan called ‘breathing’.”
“So if I'm not ya butler then I'm dead?” He laughs.
“I prefer man servant that implies more tasks.” I nod. Then take a bite of food. The eggs are seasoned so well I take another bite without waiting the adequate amount of time to chew my food.
“You know what,” he says pointing his fork at me. “I’ma let you talk. Because a nigga like me, well I got expectations. So allow me to say no more. You talk. Then after breakfast Ima let you know if you've serviced me enough with that pretty, virgin mouth.”
That has this evil muthafucka chuckling again. Expectations? Yeah, it looks like he has a lot of ideas about us fucking. It has my pussy milking. But I don't want him... Gulping back the saliva that keeps making me want him, I ask, “Virgin?” My eyebrow rises as I pick up his apple juice and down it.
“I mean virgin like no stress, no kush, no fiyah. Pretty pink lips,” He says, glaring through my lips while licking his own. While I’m holding back my own desire, I realize that he means weed. But I continue to eat. Because I don't have a need to fuck him. I only fuck around with multiple dudes to make my mom look bad. Each time a sex tape of me and a football player or a few at the same time circulated around the school, mom looks my way. She has words for me like she did yesterday. Elson has to come out them pockets because our private school knows how to shun instead of expel the rich. So I fuck for attention... As stated by my therapist.
Nine
My nigga fucked me till I passed out. See, Makhi knows just how to play my body. He ate the pussy like snicker doodles then slammed straight in. Beat it like cake batter then the long stroke had me coming for days. His dick was my sleep-aide. Now I awake and I'm lying in his strong arms. You could’ve asked me just last month before we even came to Louisiana if this is the life? I’d say hell yeah, nothing is better than being in my man’s arms. Yet, the same hesitance that made me pack my things yesterday morning and take a taxi cab to LAX is weighing on my heart right now. Since he's not sexing me, I feel some type of way about yesterday.
I was dead wrong for saying he murdered Nevaeh last night. Our baby was a still born. He'd been the best daddy in the world during my pregnancy. No cheating. And fuck it, Makhi ain't never really cheated because I've always known the hoes that run after him or th
at he runs after. I usually “okayed” them. But with that bitch I murked. That was a different story. He had to love her back in the day. She admitted to loving him the second before I took her ass out.
I climb down under the covers and to my morning dose of vitamins. Will it make me just want to be with him?
Am I done?
I was telling myself that the moment I tried to leave Makhi yesterday. Made it to the airport. Matter fact. My clothes have probably stopped spinning around the airport terminal at my hometown by now. I'm here.
I'm supposed to be home anywhere that Makhi Mack is.
Scooting down under the feathery cover, I pick up Makhi’s pipe and lick it from base to tip. The love we made is still glazed on his dick. Nice. Sweet and salty. Letting my throat relax, I get as much of his king sized dick into my mouth as I can.
“Damn... so it’s like that?” Makhi murmurs in that sexy tone of his. A deep growl comes from his gut as he cums quick.
I jump out of bed. All of Makhi’s torn new Jordan’s are still all over the floor and the rest of his clothes that I tore up before leaving this place yesterday morning. He mumbles about maid service as I put on a pair of Makhi’s Nike shorts.
“Damn girl we gotta go shopping.” Makhi replies, pulling up his basketball shorts. Since he’s already dressed in a wife beater, he opens the bedroom door and shuts it behind him.
After brushing my teeth, and placing on a bra and shirt. I fly down the stairs. “Dad! Bros…” I say excitedly, “Where the fuck Perce at?”
“Dang girl hold up,” my pops Paul Senior hugs me tightly. Then Paul Junior. My middle bro Prado, the quiet one looks me over. “You good,” he says as we hug.
“Oh...” The way Prado is silently glancing me over, I know that my bros either came to break bread or they came to get me. I instantly realize that they left Perce crazy ass at home. I nod, saying, “Yeah I'm good.”
Prado glances at me real hard. Besides Perce’s trigger happy ass, this nigga will fight instantly. He just takes a second to calculate the fight before going for blows. Paul Junior is team Makhi and my dad will pull out his belt and whoop Makhi ass like he was his kid for the shit my dude pulled yesterday. So I smile. This makes all the dudes relax even more. Joking, I add, “Yeah, I'm aight. I would be even better if my ace was here.” Shit Perce is my closest. I would just have to talk to him first. Assure him that Makhi and I are good.
My man starts down the left staircase, more presentable in sweats and a wife beater.
“Sup Unc,” Makhi shakes his hand first. “It’s been a cool minute since I’ve seen you. Y’all straight? This house is full of rooms, so pick which ever you like.”
I tune in and out of their convo, worried that Perce is either at home getting into trouble. Or what’s worse? They left that nigga on purpose. When he finds his way here, Perce is going to be on one.
Dad responds, “Just taking a little vacation. Mimz told me y’all were having a function.”
Makhi
There was a little bit of tension when Nine’s pops and her two older brothers arrived. I just keep thanking God that the other muthafucka stayed his ass at home as we all head over to Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles. The woman that will one day be my wife still looks fine as fuck even dressed in a pair of my Jordan sweats and A-shirt. That swallows all of her curves. As we walk into the restaurant, Nine stays back. Because I had to make sure she took her medication this morning, I excuse myself and allow her fam to get a table.
Nine stands in the cut and places up a hand as if she doesn't want to be bothered. Then turns away from me to finish her phone conversation. Fuck that, I step up to her anyway.
“Who are you talking to?” I ask.
“Makhi, how about you stop asking me questions and go see about Coco,” she says hand over the receiver. “Yeah, go see about my baby.”
Not even tryna hear Nines disrespectful ass, I snatch the phone from her hand. “Who is this?”
A proper female voice begins, “Sir, I am not at liberty to disclose –”
Realizing that ain’t any pussy ever going to be a potential threat, I hand the phone back to my girl and wait. Nine rolls her eyes, hip jutted out like she's finna break one of those thick thighs just to give a nigga an attitude. “So the Monday after next? That's all you have available?... I'll take it.”
Nine hangs up the phone while mean mugging me. “Makhi, if I was any simple bitch, I'd say you embarrassed me. Nigga what?”
“You're going to see a therapist?” I pull Nine close proud of the moves she is going to make. It takes a second but little mama relaxes in my arms and just nods.
“I’ma roll with you then.”
“No,” she replies too quickly for comfort. Nine bites that sexy ass bottom lip of hers. She watches a Yukon, with busted ass hub caps creeping into the lot, then her eyes are back on me, saying, “Look Makhi. You and I... We...”
“Damn,” I just stare as Nine shakes her head, more interested in the crackheads migrating up and down the street than us. This shit right here, with her acting cool on a nigga, has always made me remind myself that it’s just Nine’s disorder. In my endeavor not too read too much into Nine’s bipolar ass, I take a deep breath. Hand to my chest, I ask, “You doubting our love like that Paula? Really? Say what you got to say.”
“Nigga. You don't even wanna hear the words. You fucked me so good last night. Let's just go inside and enjoy lunch I'm hungry. And if at the end of the week, or whenever my fam leaves and I wanna go home... Then that's just where I’ma be.”
I nod my head slowly, this girl thinks she’s going to skip town with her pops and bros. Nine believes that if she shoots me down with them around, it’s going to be okay. I chuckle off all that naivety that she has and say, “That's a negative, Nine–“
“Mimz! Uncle Mimz,” Nine shouts sauntering past me as my pops gets out of his Escalade. She hugs him then helps him open up the back door as a gang of my family gets out. Shit this is a regular old family reunion. But I bet Nine would disrespect me by tryna leave during it. Or fuck that. Ever. I love this girl too much. No matter how shit goes down, little mama belongs to me.
Inside the Waffle House is active. Paul Senior and Nine's siblings are already pushing together tables with the staff while I try to remember a few of my little bros and sisters names. Damn, it ain't even all of us.
Nine sits across from me with a few of my sisters that look like they might be middle school age. She's smiling and looking too cute. They’re talking about that teeny bopper Nick Jonas, when my lady cuts her eyes at me, then continues with the happy chatter. I let that roll off my shoulders. In two weeks she’s going to a therapist. I think she said next Monday, so I can only hope Nine straightens out her mind issues while I talk with my people. We get rowdy but since we've bought so much food the waitresses don't complain. Besides one redbone in particular has been serving me on point. Anytime I need something that bitch is there.
My glass of Sprit doesn’t even get low before ol’ girl comes and freshens it up. Then this one particular time when light bright is bringing over a bottle of Red Rooster since I didn’t want Tabasco sauce, Nine finally sends words my way.
“Bitch do you want a good tip or some good dick!” Nine asks. “Because you ain't. Don't get it twisted. My nigga got money and bomb ass dick but you ain't getting either!”
My head falls back, I sigh knowing good and damn well this girl didn't take her medication. She must have spit it out after I went to turn on the shower. All my little siblings that have been chatting Nine’s ears off about this cartoon or that boy band, don’t say shit. Their eyes are wide as hell but their gums are clamped.
The waitress is stunned. People at other tables stare. Mimz busts up laughing. My pops says, “Nah, Nine. Don't hate because she wants me.” He tries to make a joke of it.
Half my family laughs, either because it is real funny or they're nervous--being a mix of hood and mostly sadity.
My girl gets up and heads
for the restroom. From all the way across the table of about 40 of us, Prado starts to get up. The look that she turns her big brother’s way shuts that nigga down. Me, myself and I? Shit, I decide to leave her ass alone for a while. My pants pocket vibrates. It's Bane.
“Coco flight comes in at 2pm tomorrow. You and Nine going to go get her?”
“Hell nah, the fuck you mean go get her? Like that animal's human.”
“I mean a ride, Makhi. Coco is in a cage. Nigga you spent mad money just to get your girl’s pet from Louisiana to L.A. So trust me, the alligator is fully secured and you’re going to want to make sure that little beast makes it.”
I rub my face. Nine hasn't taken her meds today, and I know my girl hasn't been on it for the past few days since I was fucking with my ex. And it takes a few days for those meds to regulate. I'm not being anywhere near Nine and that damn animal.
“Aye, what restaurant y’all at? Shit I can smell food through the phone. All that chopping it up,” Bane chuckles.
“Roscoe’s’. Come through.”
“Nigga you ain’t gotta tell me but once. I'm feeling like a muthafucking secretary all morning, calling different establishments and shit just to get permits for Coco to travel. Can a nigga get a few pieces of chicken and like three waffles? Make that four.”
“Man, eat until you drop but you taking Nine to get Coco from LAX tomorrow morning.”
“Why didn’t I already know,” Bane says sarcastically, and then hangs up.
After placing my iPhone in my pocket, I see Nines with her back to me in the hallway leaning against the wall. Her index finger is coiled in those honey blond short curls of hers. Eyes narrowed, I decide to get up and see who she's talking to.
Damn, as I get a view around her I lick my lips. The woman has to be a few inches shorter than Nine. Shape just as bad, but ass not as fat. In a sweat suit that hugs those curves I still want her. Her hair is long and silky. It looks like the bitch flirting with my girl tho.
Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug 2 (Loving a Columbian Cartel Thug) Page 29