by Jade Jones
“Wassup, bay? You lookin’ good. Smell good too,” he smiled.
Quay and Shayla hugged. She was completely ignorant to the fact that she was embracing a coldblooded killer. If she had known the truth, she would’ve ran and not looked back. Instead, she allowed herself to get closer to him.
“Thank you. You aren’t too shabby yourself.”
Quay chuckled, and opened the passenger door for Shayla. He had on a black and gray sweatshirt with the words Young and Reckless stamped across the front. A checkered Louis Vuitton belt secured his jeans, and as usual he had on a pair of Timbs. Everything about Quay read trouble, and yet Shayla was still drawn to him.
“Is that blood?” she asked. Shayla noticed a small amount smeared across the top of his shoe.
“Yeah…I—uh...had a nose bleed last night,” he lied.
“Aww, poor baby.”
Grateful that she accepted his story, Quay hopped in the driver’s seat and switched the gears to drive. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to the Buckhead Theater where Australian comedian Jim Jefferies was performing live.
Shayla was surprised by how well rounded and diverse Quay was. Although he was a menace to society, he was still a highly intelligent hood nigga at heart. When they walked inside and sat down together, some white lady tried to hassle Shayla about being in the wrong seat. She quickly backed off though after Quay whispered something in her ear that only she heard. Shayla watched as her face turned pale, and she stared straight ahead. The woman looked like she’d seen a ghost.
“What did you say to her?”
“I just told her ass to fall back. We where we ‘posed to be.”
Shayla settled into her seat at the same time the comedian stepped on stage. Jim’s jokes were no holds barred, and Shayla had never laughed so much in her life.
“…And what’s the fucking deal with making new parents sterilize baby bottles? We don’t sterilize those tits and I nut on those fuckers every night faithfully. I mean…once in a while my son gets a cold sore but…hey.”
Shayla keeled over with laughter, and from the corner of his eye, Quay admired her beauty. He cherished being able to put a smile on her face. She didn’t contest when he reached over and held her hand.
After an amazing show, Quay treated Shayla to dinner at The BQE Restaurant and Lounge on Edgewood. She settled on a shrimp cocktail and a house salad. Quay went with the chicken and red velvet waffles along with the buttermilk fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and collard greens. To be incredibly fit, Shayla didn’t understand how he was able to smash two whole entrees and a dessert.
“You must gotta high metabolism,” she said.
Quay laughed and guzzled the last of his Heineken. He could think of one more thing he wouldn’t mind eating.
All of a sudden, Shayla’s phone started ringing. Pulling it out her red Michael Kors bag, she looked at the screen and noticed Romeo was calling. Should I answer or should I ignore it? Besides, being out on a date, Shayla didn’t know if she was ready to deal with him just yet. His ass had gone postal the last time she saw him, and right now she needed her space.
Shayla also wanted to immerse herself in the moment she was sharing Quay. Sadly, she didn’t know that Romeo was calling her from the hospital to tell her what happened. And he took her unresponsiveness to mean she didn’t care.
Shayla was just about to put away her phone, but Romeo sent a text message:
Hope that nigga makes you happy.
Shayla scoffed and tucked her phone away inside her purse. She didn’t feel like entertaining her husband.
“Everything cool?” Quay asked. He noticed that her mood had changed.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Shit, I almost forgot…” Quay reached in his pocket and placed a small black velvet box on the table. “I got’chu a lil’ somethin’,” he said, sliding it over towards her.
Shayla smiled and reached for the jewelry box. “What is it?” she asked.
“Open it,” he ushered. “Don’t worry. It ain’t an engagement ring or no shit like that.”
Shayla slowly opened the box, revealing a sparkling 18 ct. diamond necklace. “Quay…I…I don’t know what to say…” She was left breathless as she stared at the expensive piece of jewelry. It was still early in their friendship, so she didn’t know if she should’ve accepted it or not.
“Lemme help you put it on,” Quay offered.
Before Shayla could oppose, he stood to his feet and rounded the table. Quay took his time as he secured the sparkling necklace around her throat. He lingered for a minute or two, because he wanted to kiss the side of her neck. However, he knew with a chick like Shayla he had to take it slow.
Quay loved the way the diamonds sparkled against her soft, chocolate skin. She didn’t need to know that the necklace once belonged to Gina. Since the bitch was dead and had no use for it, Quay figured it would look better on Shayla.
“Thank you, Quay. I really love it.”
After dinner, he took Shayla back home, and parked in front of her house. All the lights were off since her parents were still down in Savannah. Shayla had the entire place to herself until they returned.
“Thanks again…for everything,” Shayla told him.
“You ain’t gon’ invite me in?” Quay asked. He stared hard at her bare legs in her midi skirt. He wanted to kiss and nibble on her inner thigh.
Shayla hesitated. “I don’t know…Are you gonna be on your best behavior?”
Quay held up his hand. “I will. Scouts Honor.”
“Well…I guess for a little while.”
Quay turned the engine off, climbed out the car, and followed Shayla to the front door. It seemed like only yesterday he had to hem up her ex on the front lawn. “You ain’t had no mo’ problems out that nigga, did you?”
“Which one? Dexter? No. He’s keeping his distance and I couldn’t be happier.”
Shayla unlocked her door and pushed it open. As soon as she stepped inside, Quay unexpectedly grabbed her from behind.
23
“Quay, what are you doing?” Shayla giggled.
He mannishly cupped her ass while attempting to steal a kiss. “I had my fingers crossed in the car,” he laughed.
“Boy, stop. We shouldn’t even be doing this,” she breathed. “I’m still married.”
Quay’s lips were centimeters away from her own. He was so close that she could smell the mint on his breath. “And I still don’t give a fuck. That nigga’s irrelevant to me. Where the fuck he at?” Quay pretended to look around.
“Quay, I—”
“Just let me kiss it,” he begged.
Shayla’s cheeks grew hot. “That could potentially lead to something else…”
Quay kissed the side of her neck, then her jawline, and finally her mouth. He gave her bottom lip a gentle tug with his teeth. She was crying that husband shit now, but he knew once he got in that shit, she wouldn’t be thinking about that sorry nigga.
Quay backed Shayla against the living room sofa where she landed with a soft thud. Dropping down on his knees in front of her, he rolled her skirt up and reached for her panties.
“Quay, wait,” she quickly said. Shayla was uncertain on what to do. Apart of her wanted him to, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love Romeo.
“Fuck that. I’m tired of waitin’. I wanna kiss it…Lemme taste it…”
Shayla’s skirt was bunched around her waist, and her panties dangled off her ankle. She knew the right thing to do, but she still didn’t stop Quay from lowering his head.
When his warm mouth closed over her sopping pussy, she gasped in pleasure. She started out telling him not to, but once he got into it, she was pulling his head deeper, and wrapping her legs around his shoulder.
Quay patiently licked and sucked on her pussy until she shivered and cried out his name. With her legs perched over his shoulders, he ate her pussy like a subservient freak right there in the living room. Her parents could’ve walked in at t
hat very moment, and he probably still wouldn’t have stopped.
Shayla’s French tips glided through his curly top. Using her other hand, she squeezed and massaged her breasts.
“Yo’ mufuckin’ ass tryin’ to get bust down,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Where yo’ bedroom at?”
“Quay—”
“Where yo’ bedroom at?” he interrupted. Quay didn’t feel like arguing with her. He was more than ready to drop some dick off in her ass. He didn’t give a fuck about her husband.
“First room on the left,” she whispered.
When Quay picked her up and carried her to their destination, Shayla knew she couldn’t turn back.
Once inside, he tossed her on the mattress and flipped her over onto her stomach. “Put that ass up,” he ordered. Quay proceeded to undress.
Shayla admired his naked physique. He was built like an athlete, but tatted like a convict. He had a few war wounds that came from banging but nothing too outrageous. Written in bold cursive across his collarbone was a tat that read: Lord, Protect Me From My Friends Because I Can Handle My Enemies.
Shayla did as instructed and Quay graciously ate the pussy from the back. While doing so, he rolled a condom over his 9-inch dick. She was nice, wet, and primed by the time he slid in from behind.
Shayla had to grip the bed sheets. She wasn’t expecting him to come in with such force. Quay didn’t believe in making love. He punished the pussy. “Get this dick, bitch. Damn this mufucka deep too.”
Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he drilled her shit like he had something to prove. In a way, he did. He wanted to out-fuck any nigga she had been with prior to him.
“I knew this pussy was gon’ be good the minute I first saw yo’ ass.” Quay’s grip on her hair tightened. He slapped her butt cheek a few times. “Fuck what’chu hollin’. This shit mine now,” he told her. “If you fuck anybody else, I’ll kill yo’ mufuckin’ ass. You hear me? You mine now.”
***
That evening, Desmond decided to pull up on Kimberlyn so they could talk. He also needed to pass the word along to her about what happened to Romeo. He knew they weren’t on the best of terms, but she still deserved to know.
Desmond didn’t expect to see Kim’s front door wide open when he eased in her driveway. “The fuck?” Grabbing his iron out the glove compartment, he quickly hopped out and approached the house. As soon as he walked in, he noticed the broken vase by the door.
“Kim?” he called out. “Kimberlyn?!”
Silence was the response he received.
Desmond walked through the entire first level, looking for his girl but she was nowhere in sight. Next, he went upstairs and checked her bedroom. Nothing was packed, and everything looked in order. Something was definitely wrong.
Desmond ran to his son’s bedroom. When he opened Jordan’s closet, he found the boy cowering in the corner. He hadn’t left since Cool stormed inside and took his mother.
24
“Aight, you can open your eyes now,” Apollo said.
Liberty moved her hands from her face and took in the beautiful sight before. She and Apollo were standing in the center of a high-rise loft on 11th street. The unit was already furnished and move-in ready.
Liberty noticed the rose petal trail on the floor and became confused. “Apollo…this is beautiful,” she said breathlessly. “But what is it? I—I’m lost…”
“I got it for you and Luke. Figured ya’ll needed somewhere new to lay your head without all that heavy construction and shit.” Apollo hated that she had to deal with her home being remodeled after Trip ran her car through it. He did, however, like that she would now be in a better neighborhood, because where she currently was wasn’t the business.
“You want me and Luke to live here?” Liberty asked in disbelief. The corner unit loft was the most fancy property she’d ever stepped foot in and it was all hers.
“I do,” he said. “All the paperwork’s already been filled out. The only thing its missin’ is its tenants.”
“Apollo…I…I’m at a loss for words. It’s beautiful…but how the hell am I gonna afford living here.”
Apollo chuckled. “I keep tellin’ yo’ ass, you ask too many questions. I got’chu. You ain’t gotta worry about shit. Just lemme take care of everything, aight?”
“Apollo—”
“Aight?”
Liberty nodded her head in agreement instead of further arguing with him.
“Lemme show you around. You ain’t ‘een seen the best thing about the place,” he told her. Apollo held his hand out for Liberty and she took it. He led through the modern unit, with all its high tech gadgets and upgrades, and towards the bedroom.
All of the lights were off, and a few scented candles outlined the perimeter of the spacious room. The rose petal trail stopped at the foot of the bed. Lying on top of it was a sheer beige robe, lace nude panties and bra set, and a shoebox from Giuseppe.
Liberty took her time as she lifted the lid on the shoebox and peeked inside. A bronze pair of Giuseppes with the flame appliqués stared back at her. She wasn’t a big fan of heels, but for him she was willing to sport them.
“Why you doing all this for me?” she asked him. Surely, Apollo had his pick of any beautiful woman he wanted—ones who probably didn’t need saving at that. But yet and still, he insisted on courting her. A man of his caliber showing serious interest in her almost seemed too good to be true.
Apollo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a seat on the chaise lounge in the corner of the room and fired up.
Liberty laughed. “Oh, let me guess. I’m asking too many questions again, right?”
Apollo took several tokes on the spliff before blowing the smoke through his nostrils. His eyes were an intense gray that evening; the shade they always took on whenever he was angry or sexually aroused.
“Put it on,” he said.
Liberty stalled. She’d never worn anything that provocative before, and she was afraid it wouldn’t be flattering. Trip had torn her self-esteem apart so much over the years.
Swallowing her uneasiness, Liberty slowly undressed and slid into the see-through robe. Apollo’s dick sprang to life as he watched her step into the $1500 heels.
“Spin around for me,” he commanded.
Liberty obliged by giving him a slow twirl. The hem of the robe flew up a little, showing off her round bare ass.
Apollo pulled on the blunt and stroked his dick at the same. Liberty was such a good girl; he found her innocence amusing. He could tell from her bashfulness that she’d never done anything like this.
“A nigga got’chu steppin’ out ya comfort zone, huh?” he smiled.
Liberty giggled. “Since the day I met you.”
Apollo curled his index finger and ushered her over. “C’mere.”
Liberty sashayed towards him, looking every bit of voluptuous. Pulling her close, he allowed his hands to roam all over her figure. Their gazes remained locked on each other as he explored her body and learned her spots. When his thumb brushed across her clit, her knees almost gave out.
Apollo pulled Liberty down on top of him and she straddled him. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful…”
Liberty blushed like a teenage girl. Apollo had her so whipped it wasn’t even funny. I’mma grown ass woman, she told herself. How the hell am I getting butterflies when I’m with this man?
Liberty wanted to write Apollo love letters whenever he wasn’t around. Her face lit up anytime she saw him. She cherished the time they spent together more than the materialistic shit. Liberty was slowly but surely falling for Apollo.
“Can I ask you one last question?” she whispered.
“What’chu wanna know, baby?”
Liberty fondled one of his stray dreads. “What’s your last name, Apollo?”
“…Creed…”
Liberty laughed. “I’m for real.”
“Why you wanna know?” he asked. “What? You gon’ wear it one day?”
“I
don’t know… You haven’t even told me what we’re doing…”
“What’chu mean?”
“I’m saying…like…are we together or what?”
Because Apollo was commitment shy, he replied, “I don’t do the whole title shit, lil’ mama.”
“Oh…” The word left Liberty’s lips in a disappointed murmur.
“Look, we all got that one bitch we willin’ to kill and do anything for. That rider. That’s what’chu are to me. I just don’t be with that whole label shit. Sometimes it can fuck up a good thing, you feel me? You already know you mine.”
“Well…How do you feel about me?” was Liberty’s next question.
Apollo froze up because she was really putting him on the spot. He was a hood nigga at heart. He’d never been with all the lovey-dovey shit, because he believed it could slow a nigga down.
Suddenly, Apollo’s phone started ringing.
“Are you gonna get that?” Liberty asked. The somber expression on her face said she didn’t want him to.
Apollo grabbed his iPhone and stared at the name on his screen. It was Desmond. “Got to. It’s business.”
Liberty climbed off his lap and disappeared in the bathroom to give him some privacy. She didn’t expect to find the fruit bath awaiting her arrival.
“Yo, wus good?” Apollo answered.
“Kim’s gone! That bitch ass nigga, Cool got her, cuz. I don’t give a fuck what’chu gotta do! Find her! Then find that pussy ass nigga and finish it!” Spit flew from Desmond’s mouth as he yelled into his iPhone. His temple throbbed from frustration. The sooner Cool was found and disposed of, the sooner he’d be able to sleep peacefully again.
Was Kimberlyn okay?
Did he hurt her?
Were they even still in Atlanta?
A dozen thoughts ran through Desmond’s mind. He needed to get to her before it was too late.
“You got it,” Apollo said.
Desmond disconnected the call, and Apollo stood to his feet and went in the bathroom. Liberty looked delectable in the fruit bath. If it weren’t for business, he would’ve gladly climbed in and fucked her.