Cameron 7: The Finale

by Jade Jones

  “Your phone,” Juicy said, nudging him.

  Wayne grunted but didn’t wake.

  “Wayne, get your fucking phone! That bitch is calling! You really don’t hear that shit though, my nigga?” she yelled. Her tone was laced with irritation.

  He immediately jerked up and grabbed his iPhone. “Damn. Why’d you let me sleep late?” he complained.

  “Nigga, I’m not your fucking alarm!” she hissed.

  Wayne slapped her naked booty cheek as a penalty for being sassy. She knew how he felt about that ghetto, smart-mouthed shit, but she still tried him. Juicy was totally unfazed. She’d been stripping for years. She was used to niggas smacking her ass hard on the regular.

  Wayne ran a hand over his gray and silver hair as he stared blankly at his phone screen. The texture of it was soft and silky like he had Spanish in his bloodline.

  Wayne was an attractive man, beautiful even. His smooth skin was the color of bronze. He had soft gray eyes, a dimpled chin, and a perfectly chiseled face. Juicy often told him he looked like Rick Fox.

  “I’m ‘bout to answer. Keep quiet for a sec,” he said.

  Juicy looked at his ass like he was nuts. Did this mothafucka really just tell me to keep quiet? Like I’d deliberately talk knowing that cuntbag is on the phone. I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.

  Wayne stood from the bed naked and went to the bathroom. He was 45-years old, looked 30, and had the athletic build and stamina of a man in his early 20s. It was no secret that Wayne had turned her young ass out.

  He made her bust on the regular, bought her expensive clothes and shoes, and treated her to fancy trips overseas. Aside from the sex and materialistic shit, he added value to her life by teaching her things and instilling a wisdom that was far beyond her years. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the sense to leave him alone. Juicy had become so smitten and dependent on Wayne that she completely forgot what they were doing was wrong. A woman’s nightly companion shouldn’t have been someone else’s husband. Juicy told herself that repeatedly. Yet any time she made an effort to leave him, something caused her to stay.

  All she heard was, “Calm down, lemme talk,” before the bathroom door closed shut.

  Juicy rolled over and looked up at the tray ceiling in her bedroom. Wayne rented her a spacious condo on W. Lakeside Avenue, and got her a cute little BMW to push around the city, but both were in his name. Wayne treated her good; yet, at the end of the day she was his property. If she left, she couldn’t take any of it with her. It was the unspoken agreement they shared.

  After several minutes, he finally reemerged from the bathroom with a look of satisfaction on his face. That must’ve meant he found an acceptable lie to feed his significant other. He nourished his wife and side chick’s insecurities with the same game and finesse, and they bought it every single time.

  Juicy seemed unmoved when he climbed back in the bed next to her. He tried to kiss her, but she hastily turned away.

  “Don’t come in here trying to pacify me, Wayne.”

  “What the fuck do you want me to do? Ignore her so she can keep calling? I had to tell her something—”

  “We wouldn’t even be in this situation if you just got the damn divorce—”

  “I told you, I’m working on it. Divorces are expensive.”

  “Nigga, so is this condo. And them trips out the country we take. And the Rolls Royce you just got that bitch for her birthday.”

  Juicy only knew what car it was because she stalked his wife’s Instagram regularly just to hate. She wanted to know how Wayne had her living—which was far more extravagant and fancier than what he did for her. Juicy couldn’t help but be jealous. Tabitha was his wife, but she felt like she could give him so much more.

  Wayne told Juicy everything that was wrong in his marriage. He confided and vented to her like a patient to a counselor. His wife didn’t listen, she never had the energy or time to fuck, and she was no longer as passionate as she was when they first married. He claimed they only stayed together for the sake of the children. He also didn’t want to disappoint or offend her father who’d helped get him the high-paying position he now had. To put it simply, he was obligated to Tabitha, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  “You shouldn’t even be worrying yourself about her possessions. That materialistic shit doesn’t mean anything. You should be focused on us. What we have is far greater in value than some damn car.”

  She broke in anxiously. “But—”

  “Look at me,” Wayne insisted.

  Juicy kept her focus on the floor-to-ceiling windows in her bedroom. She could see Lake Erie from her condo. He had her spoiled, but she wanted more. She wanted the ring, the title, and him all wrapped in one.

  “You’re so damn pretty when you mad. You know that?” He kissed her neck. “Huh?” He kissed her shoulder.

  Juicy didn’t respond, and he just admired her in silence. She was coffee-brown with chinky hazel eyes, sooty lashes, and deep dimples. The left half of her hair was shaved with two small lines cut into the side. She sported a gold hoop in her nose, and three stars were tattooed on the side of her temple. She was a beautiful girl, but hood at heart. That’s what initially attracted him to her. Juicy was the complete opposite of his upstanding wife.

  When Juicy didn’t turn her head, Wayne gently grabbed her chin, and forced her to look in his eyes. He was devilishly handsome.

  Damn, why can’t I leave this nigga alone, she asked herself. He ain’t even mine.

  Juicy had let things go too far. She was in too deep, and there was no turning back now.

  Wayne’s gray eyes stared worshipfully at her. “You know I wanna be with you, Diana. But you gotta be patient. I’m trying. Just work with me.” He was the only man in her life that called her by her real name. He didn’t like using her stripper pseudonym. As a matter of fact, he’d made her hang her heels up permanently. Since he took care of her financial needs, Juicy agreed. Wayne came into her life and completely changed her ways and habits.

  “I’m tired of being patient.” There was a bitter loneliness twining around her heart. She wanted to sleep next to him every night without disturbance.

  Wayne kissed her heart-shaped lips. “I promise it’ll all be worth it in the end.”

  “Whatever, mothafucka. You have no intentions of really leaving that bitch and you know it.”

  “Why would I wanna spend my life with someone that makes me unhappy? I don’t love her anymore. I’m in love with you. Stop telling yourself that I’ll never leave her.”

  “You won’t.”

  Wayne bit her bottom lip and tugged it with his teeth. He hated whenever she went against what he said. “Don’t argue with me,” he told her. “Besides, I gotta get ready for work soon.” He weaseled between her thighs, his wood was already hard and leaking with pre cum. “Let me get you off before I go.”

  Juicy tried to hide the smile that broke free. He was so giving, financially and sexually.

  “I don’t want none,” she said, knowing damn well she did.

  Wayne pinned her arms high above her head and pressed the tip of his bare dick against her base. Juicy squirmed and moaned. He had a donkey dick, every time felt like the first time.

  “Let me in,” he whispered in her hair.

  Juicy tried to relax as she allowed him to bury all 10-inches inside. After filling her up with his porno dick, Wayne started hitting it in a slow, circular rhythm. He wrapped a massive hand around her slender neck to hold her in place. He didn’t want her running from the dick like she always did.

  “Wayne, oh my God!” Her voice was a thrilling whisper. “Get it, daddy! Shit! Make me cum!”

  He snaked his tongue in her mouth and kissed like they had made vows. “You love me?” he asked. “Say you love me, baby.”

  “I love you, daddy!” she cried out. Her moans were loud enough to wake the dead.

  Wayne pulled out, climbed down at her waist, and buried his face deep in her pussy. H
e licked, sucked, chewed, and nibbled on her button until her legs trembled and she came. He knew his head game was crazy. It was her weakness.

  After making her nut, Wayne crawled out the bed and proceeded to dress. He told her he had to get ready for work, but she knew he really just had to get his ass back home to Tabitha.

  Wayne kissed Juicy goodbye, tossed her a little spending money, and departed. Once again, she was left alone in bed with a wet pussy and empty heart.

  7

  That night Jude woke up in a cold sweat again from nightmares of Cam and the kids being taken. His dreams were even more vivid than the real thing. In his nightmares, there was blood all over the walls and heinous laughter in the background. It was like a bad acid trip.

  Jag would’ve been pleased with himself to know he was the man responsible for why Jude couldn’t sleep peacefully. Aside from costing him millions of dollars after setting his warehouse on fire, Jag had caused irreparable emotional damage. People were dead and his family was still out there somewhere.

  Jude looked around his dark bedroom and suddenly broke down. It’d been years since he cried. He didn’t even shed a tear at his own mother’s funeral. He felt so broken and deserted without Cam. He had an army of loyal soldiers on his team, but he had never felt more alone until now. He was suffering from severe depression. Life just wasn’t worth living without his baby.

  After a brief period of lamenting, Jude wiped his tears, and grabbed his gun and car keys. His house was completely empty that evening. Normally, Magyc slept over every night, but he was obviously still in his feelings about Jude putting a gun to his brother’s head.

  Jude’s entire empire was slowly collapsing before his very eyes. He was losing control and it was all because of that piece of a man Cameron just couldn’t stay away from.

  I should’ve never let that pussy nigga breathe, he said to himself. I should’ve buried that mothafucka with his brother a long ass time ago. Back when I first found out he was fucking with Cam. Why did I ever spare that bitch?

  Jude hopped in his ‘Rari, blasted the newest Jay Rock album, and skirted off. It was only 1 am, but he couldn’t sleep. He needed to clear his head, and maybe even have a drink or two.

  After aimlessly driving around twenty minutes, he ended up outside the bar Essence worked at. Kendrick’s voice poured through the custom speakers as he passionately rapped the chorus.

  Big money, big booty bitches…

  Man, that shit gon' be the death of me…

  Big problems, I must admit it…

  Man, that shit gon' be the death of me…

  ***

  Using his trusty crowbar, Jag focused on breaking inside his target’s home through the front door. Ralph Tompkins Jr. lived in a cozy ranch style house out in Reno, Nevada. He had no idea that his time on Earth had run out.

  After prying the door open, Jag gave it a gentle push with a gloved hand. His suppressed pistol entered the house before he did. He looked like the boogey man in a black duster coat, black skullcap, and black utility boots. It was the simple wardrobe of a man who wanted to blend in with the night. His face was unwelcoming. He was all about business that night.

  Jag heard classical music playing in the den. He decided to investigate. The faster he finished the job the sooner he could get back to his bitch.

  He was just about to step in the room when he heard the distinctive sound of movement behind him. Jag turned around and Ralph was standing there, staring dead at him with a look of confusion and fear. He was a pudgy Yugoslavian man with balding hair and a rotund belly that peeked through his satin robe. He obviously wasn’t expecting company.

  Ralph dropped the wineglass he was holding and took off running towards the kitchen. He was more than likely on his way to fetch a knife.

  Ralph barely made it out the room before Jag blew a hole through the back of his leg.

  PFEW!

  The gunshot wasn’t loud since he had a silencer attached. The lone bullet tore through Ralph’s saphenous vein, causing him to fall face first.

  “Please, don’t kill me! I’ll give you whatever you want!” he cried. “I have m—”

  His sentence was cut short after Jag yanked a plastic bag over his head. He then secured it tightly with a long piece of cable wire. Ralph struggled and thrashed about wildly, but it was no use against the powerful 6”4 man.

  Grabbing him by the leg, Jag dragged him through his home towards the sliding glass doors leading to the back of the house.

  Ralph clawed at his neck as the cable wire strangled him to death. He couldn’t breathe.

  Jag yanked open the doors and lugged him to the modern pool. There was no sympathy in his cold, black heart when he tossed him inside.

  Ralph’s body hit the water with a hard splash. He immediately plummeted to the bottom like a bag of bricks. He flailed about wildly in the crystal blue water. Either he’d choke, drown, or bleed to the death. Regardless of whichever way he exited, Jag’s job was done. The funds were already in his account.

  Jag slowly walked back inside the house, leaving Ralph to his own fate. As he walked past the kitchen, he noticed a bottle of Armand de Brignac resting on the countertop.

  “Well, hello there. This must be for me.”

  Jag made a brief detour to pour a glass of $3000 wine. He then found himself moseying through the luxury home in curiosity. Original paintings covered the egg-white walls and the decorative pieces were all high-end. Ralph’s ass had some money.

  But ironically, the person who paid Jag didn’t want that. They just wanted him dead, murdered in the worst possible way imaginable. Jag tried his best to be creative.

  Jag’s search led him upstairs to the main bedroom. The minute he pushed the door open, he saw a half-naked man lying in bed.

  “Who the fuck are you?! RALPH!” he called out.

  Jag lifted his gun. Now that he’d seen his face he had to go.

  POP!

  POP!

  Jag canceled his Christmas before he even could realize what was going on. Jag didn’t even know Ralph had a visitor. The poor guy was simply at the right place at the wrong time.

  On his way out the room, Jag noticed a beautiful diamond ring on the dresser. Next to it was an old photo of Ralph and his wife. She had paid Jag twenty bones to murk her husband after he left her for a man.

  Jag thought about abandoning the piece of jewelry. But he figured it could be put to better use than collecting dust, so he grabbed that along with Ralph’s wallet.

  Cameron will love this, he convinced himself. It completely flew over his head that she hated his guts and everything he stood for. There was nothing he could do or say to redeem his actions. Cam was through with his ass, but he just wouldn’t accept that they were over. Their likelihood for marital bliss was very slim.

  Jag completely overlooked their problems though. He didn’t see anything wrong with the savage way he treated her. In fact, he felt like he was pretty much training her to love him all over again.

  After business was handled, Jag went to the hottest strip club in Reno, Key Club. He spent two grand in tips, bought a couple bottles, finessed the baddest stripper into leaving with him, and took her back to his room to beat her out.

  The next morning, Jag caught the first thing back to Atlanta. Now that his job was done, he had no reason to stay in Nevada other than to spend money and trick.

  The flight back to Georgia was short and comfy in first class. One of the attendants flirted with him the entire time. She had a weakness for handsome guys with dark features and dreamy eyes. Jag reminded her of Christian Grey—only he was fifty shades of crazy. If she knew how dangerous he was she would’ve ran instead of smiling and making advances at him.

  Jag didn’t pay her any mind. Once the plane landed Cameron was all he could think about. In all good conscience, he never felt right cheating on her with any of the bitches in the city they lived in. He only dipped his dick in other hoes while traveling, and only because he felt like it c
ame with the territory.

  Jag left his family mentality at home whenever he went to do an assignment. Whatever happened during the interval happened.

  After exiting the aircraft, Jag headed to ground transportation. He started to flag down a taxi when he noticed a familiar face panhandling nearby.

  Was it…? No… Couldn’t be…

  Jag had to be hallucinating. That was the only explanation he could think of. But when they made eye contact and she gave a crooked smile, he knew it was real.

  ***

  It took Cameron all of fourteen hours to unlock the handcuffs using the paperclip she found. She never knew how grueling breaking loose could be until she tried it. It was the toughest thing she’d ever had to do in her life.

  Cam found herself having to rest every few hours when she got a crook in her neck or overexerted her muscles.

  It was 10 a.m. by the time she finally broke free. Pale sunlight spilled through the window into the spacious room. It was a beautiful day out, but a place of absolute torment inside the log cabin. Why couldn’t Jag just let her live her life peacefully? Why did he have to go all Jack Torrance on her? There was no explanation for his rapacious nature. One day he’d just snapped, and shit was never the same since.

  Cameron never anticipated for things to come to this. Thinking the grass was greener on the other side had landed her with a certified psycho.

  After jumping out the bed, Cam ran to the door, and eagerly twisted the knob. She’d almost forgotten that Jag locked her inside. “HELP!” she screamed. “Heeeeelp!” Cameron knew the cabin was secluded but it was still worth a shot. Someone could’ve been nearby hunting in the woods. Maybe they’d hear her screaming and call the police. I’ve gotta get the hell outta here, she told herself repeatedly. “Justin!” Cam called out. “Justin, can you hear me?!”

  If Cameron got his attention, maybe she could get him to unlock the door. When he didn’t answer she became hysterical and started banging on the surface wildly.