by Jade Jones
Shayla snorted. “No. Not since someone tagged me in that video of Romeo, Maya and some bitch in the Jacuzzi.” One of Romeo’s niggas had recorded him getting too loose one night. Shayla damn near fell apart when she saw it.
“Fuck that hoe. I don’t know how you let bird steal your man anyway—”
“She didn’t steal Romeo. I wanted a divorce—”
“And you still ain’t file the paperwork yet,” Kim reminded her. “Which must mean you ain’t want the damn divorce bad enough.”
“We needed our space.”
“No, you needed time to test the waters with Quay. Then when your ass found out the grass wasn’t greener on the other side you tried to run back to Romeo. I swear ya’ll be reaching. Ya’ll mufuckas need a slot on Love and Hip Hop or something ‘cuz I swear ya’ll be doing the most.”
Shayla waved her off. She didn’t even want to talk about Romeo. Sure Quay was a little rough around the edges and a tad bit aggressive at times, but he wasn’t a pariah.
“Anyway, I asked you about it ‘cuz I was looking on Nina’s page and saw Dex had proposed to her. Did you know?” Kim asked.
Shayla shook her head.
She didn’t want to look at the photo, but Kim still turned her phone towards Shayla so she could see the huge rock on Nina’s hand.
Unimpressed, Shayla rolled her eyes. Nina would get the son and marriage she’d longed for. Life could be so unjust. “Has she gotten an appraisal?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I ain’t ask all that. She just posted the pic last night. In the caption, she said Dex proposed at the Sundial Restaurant in the Westin.”
Shayla curled her lips up in jealousy. She and Romeo had dined there once. They’d also gotten into a heated argument before he took her by the hand and whisked her to the airport. Fourteen hours later they married in Iceland. Damn. Those were the days.
Kimberlyn interrupted Shayla’s fanciful thoughts. “Not to ride, but it’s low-key a nice rock.”
“Pssh! It ain’t all that.”
“Bitch, stop hating and let them have their shine.”
“Whatever. I’m about to get outta here though. Quay wants to meet up in Atlantic Station.”
Kimberlyn sucked her teeth. “I can’t believe you still kicking it with him.”
Shayla climbed off her bed and pulled her Uggs on. “Don’t start, K. What the hell is your beef with him anyway?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t have a good feeling about him. Plus, you know I think he might’ve been the one who jumped Romeo. He and Dez don’t wanna talk about the shit but I know what’s up.” After everything Cool had taken Kim through, the last thing she wanted was for something like that to happen to Shayla. Something about that scrub just didn’t sit right with Kim.
“If he did Romeo or Quay would’ve told me,” Shayla said.
Kimberlyn shook her head. For Shayla to be so smart, sometimes she lacked proper common sense. “First of all, Quay wouldn’t have told you shit. No shade, but you’d be a silly ass, naïve bitch to believe that. And second, maybe Romeo didn’t tell you ‘cuz he ain’t wanna fuck up your perfect little image of Quay.” She used air quotes at the end of her sentence to emphasize her sarcasm. “I swear, Shay, that nigga got you coiled around his fucking finger.”
Shayla laughed nervously. “You’re exaggerating now. He does not.”
“Bullshit, bitch. He can do no wrong in your eyes. And I looked up that bogus ass Warehouse Company he told you he worked at. The shit doesn’t even exist,” Kim said. “Hell, Romeo may’ve not been perfect. But at least you knew what you were getting with him.” Shayla may’ve not wanted to hear it, but Kim knew, without a doubt, something was up with Quay.
She was just about to continue with her rant until she heard a familiar name broadcasted on the news.
“Kim, you jumping to conclusions based on biased opinions—”
“Sshh! Turn that up! They just said something about Cool!”
Shayla grabbed the remote and raised the volume.
“…We have developing news about a body discovered in a local scrapyard early this morning…”
Christopher “Cool” Williams had just been found.
***
It was 1:30 in the afternoon when Dana sluggishly rolled out of bed. Her everyday ritual had become a pattern. She’d snort a few lines of powder, tinkle, lazily shower, and then pop her medication pills.
The medicine was for the STD she’d contracted after getting raped. Dana refused to tell anyone about that fateful night—not even Monica and she told her everything. It was something Dana wanted to keep to herself, because she still had trouble grasping it.
Dana also hadn’t spoken to Desmond even though she blamed him wholeheartedly. It was his fault some creep had dragged her into an ally and drugged her while she was unconscious. Dana didn’t deserve any of it. While she wasn’t the picture perfect person, she wouldn’t have wished what happened to her on her worst enemy.
Dana hadn’t even slept the same. Every night she woke up from night terrors in a cold sweat. She drank herself to sleep every night, and when the coke wasn’t potent enough to do the trick, she shot up heroin.
She didn’t care that over time it would deteriorate her body. Dana only wanted to escape the hurt and pain of what happened. The physical and psychological damage was irreparable.
Every night she toyed with the possibility of killing herself. Dana had tasted the cold steel of her pistol many times. And while she wanted to die, she didn’t have the courage to pull the trigger.
After popping her pills, Dana closed the medicine cabinet and stared at her weary reflection. There were heavy bags under her doe eyes. Her usually vibrant skin was now a dull mocha. Dana looked terrible, and felt even worse.
I swear I’mma make Desmond’s ass pay for what he did to me.
30
Later on that evening, Desmond treated Kim to dinner at Sotto Sotto. The posh Italian restaurant was tucked in a quiet Midtown neighborhood. It was the perfect setting for Desmond to finally get something off his chest. He was dressed to the nines in a Givenchy striped double-breasted suit. He looked every bit like a made man, and carried himself as such.
Kimberlyn’s dress complimented his high-class swag. The black Balenciaga dress hugged her curves nicely, and the black stockings were a nice touch. Kim decided to wear her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her makeup was minimal apart from the dark burgundy lipstick she wore.
Desmond loved how she pulled the Goth look off well. Black always did look sexy against her pigment. She had a nigga ready to put her over the table and spank her lil’ ass.
“What’s the occasion?” Kim asked, once they were seated. She picked up the menu and looked over it. Italian was her favorite.
A true gentleman knew it took what won her, to keep her. “I don’t need a special occasion to do somethin’ nice for my lady.”
Kimberlyn gave him a pointed look. “Is that right? So you just took me to this fancy restaurant just because?”
“The best for the best.”
Kimberlyn didn’t respond right away. She was too busy thinking about the news report she’d watched earlier. Is Desmond capable of doing some shit like that, she wondered.
“Wassup? Everything cool? You look like something’s on ya mind.” Desmond was familiar with her expressions. He always knew when something was wrong.
“Cool was murdered,” she blurted out.
Desmond didn’t bat an eyelash, and Kim found that odd. Before he could respond, their waiter returned with the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu.
Once they were alone again, Desmond replied, “I’m sorry to hear that.” His words came out in a rushed, nonchalant mutter. He didn’t even make eye contact when he said. He couldn’t. Not when he was the one responsible for his demise.
“Are you?”
Silence.
Kimberlyn leaned in close and lowered her voice. “Can I ask you a question, Desmond?”
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“Sure.”
“And can you be one hundred with me?” she added.
“Of course.”
Kimberlyn hesitated. “Did you have anything to do with Cool’s death?”
Desmond stalled with giving a response. “What if I did…?”
Kim stared at Dez for several seconds in silence. She didn’t want to believe he was capable of doing something so callous. He should’ve let the police handle him, instead of taking matters into his own hands. What happened to Cool was inhumane—even for someone like him. No one deserved that kind of death.
“Then you’d be no different than him,” she said.
Desmond’s jaw tensed, but he remained silent. The nigga needed to be dealt with and that’s what happened. He didn’t understand why Kim was making a federal case out the shit.
“So did you?” Kimberlyn pressed.
“Did I what?”
Kim was now impatient. “Did you or did you not have something to do with Cool’s murder?”
Desmond looked Kimberlyn dead in the eyes. If lying to her was what it took to keep the peace between them, then so be it. He’d deal with the consequences later, but for now he would take that secret to his grave. “I’m a lot of things, Kim,” he said. “But a murderer…that ain’t me…”
“You don’t have to tell me everything. But don’t lie to me, Desmond.”
“I’m not lyin’. Baby, this was the same grimy nigga that ratted out his camp just to save his own ass. It could’ve been any fuckin’ body that killed him. A nigga like that had a long list of enemies.”
Kimberlyn met Desmond’s gaze. She didn’t fully believe that he was innocent but she forced herself to anyway.
All of a sudden, their waiter returned with a dish covered by a silver cloche. “An appetizer for the lady.” He placed it down in front of her and quickly walked off.
Kimberlyn looked confused. “I didn’t an order an appetizer.”
“Lift the lid,” Desmond told her.
Kim reached over and removed the cloche. A red, velvet jewelry box sat in the middle of the porcelain plate. “Dez, what is this?”
“Open it,” he prompted.
Kimberlyn’s heart rate increased and her breath quickened. “Desmond, is this what I think it is?” With trembling fingers, she slowly lifted the lid, revealing a sparkling 3 ct. pave diamond engagement ring. “Oh my, God…” she gasped. “Oh my God, Desmond. Are you serious?”
“I’m ready to take things to the next level, Kim. I’m even thinkin’ ‘bout leavin’ the streets alone,” he admitted. “Whenever I’m with you and Jordan, I feel complete. And you’re so good with Destiny. You treat her like she’s your own, and that means a lot to me. It feels like we’re all a family. Life to me is perfect. I never wanna lose that, K. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. What do you say?”
Kimberlyn wiped away her tears of joy. “I thought you said this wasn’t a special occasion.”
Desmond shrugged with a half-smile and tilted his head to the side a little. “I lied.”
Kimberlyn laughed. “Desmond, there’s nothing I would want more than to be your wife…”
He smiled happily, assuming her response meant yes.
“But I can’t accept this right now…” she finished. “Honestly…I need time to think about it.” Kim still didn’t know if Desmond was telling the truth or not about Cool. If she couldn’t have faith in his word, how would they ever have a successful marriage? A healthy relationship involved trust, first and foremost.
“What is there to think about?” Desmond asked. He tried his best to contain himself. His ego was wounded, but he didn’t flip. He had to be careful how he played his cards with a queen in his hand.
“I just need time,” she stressed.
Desmond relaxed in his seat and downed his wine. He didn’t expect her answer, but he had no choice but to respect it. The ball was ultimately in Kimberlyn’s hands.
***
The following afternoon, Shayla and Liberty decided to waste time and burn energy at Lenox Square Mall. Since she was currently job-hunting, Shayla had been reduced to window-shopping.
Quay tried to give her money on a few occasions but she never felt right taking it. She didn’t want to obligate herself to him because he did something for her. She liked that they didn’t have titles, but still held a mutual understanding. It made shit so much less complicated. Romeo had tried to play her like she was some gold digger, and she didn’t appreciate that shit.
“How are you and Apollo?” Shayla asked, as they walked past Steve Madden. She hoped their relationship was going better than her marriage.
Liberty let out a sigh. “We’re straight, I guess. When he’s around everything’s cool—but he gets in these weird ass moods sometimes. He can be real hot and cold.”
“Like how?”
“He’ll just fall all the way back. Like he won’t hit me up, text me, or answer my calls. He does it for days at a time too, Shay. Sometimes I think he has another bitch. It’s like he leads a double life.”
“I think you’re jumping to conclusions,” Shayla laughed.
“Am I?” Liberty asked, skeptically. “’Cuz he’s showing all the obvious signs. On top of that, he don’t even wanna tell me what he does for a living.”
“Romeo told me Apollo been in and outta prison his whole life. I think the nigga is just institutionalized, if you ask me.”
“That’s no excuse for…” Liberty’s voice trailed off when she saw a familiar face approaching them. “Wait a minute… Speaking of the devil, ain’t that Romeo right there?”
Shayla’s heart fluttered immediately after hearing his name. She looked up and grimaced. “Yeah, that’s him,” she murmured. Shayla felt indifferent about seeing him. Apart of her missed him, but the other part despised his ass.
Shayla’s flamboyant husband was three deep that afternoon. He looked handsome in a black and gold Helmut Lang tee, white fitted jeans, and black high top Giuseppes. Two $50,000 Cuban link chains dangled proudly around his neck. Shayla had never saw the guys he was with, but she figured they must’ve worked for him. Romeo didn’t do the whole friend thing.
Shayla’s heart rate increased as he and his boys walked towards her. This was her first time seeing him since the fight at their condo. She never called him and he never reached out after that day.
Shayla was surprised she didn’t see Maya with him. I wonder if he’s still keeping time with that bitch?
Romeo wore a hand brace, and his bruises had healed nicely. He was finally starting to look like his old self again.
Romeo and Shayla made brief eye contact. She expected him to say something, to speak, to smile. Yet all he did was nod his head respectively in their direction and continued walking.
Shayla couldn’t believe he didn’t stop. She glanced over her shoulder to see if he’d looked back but he didn’t. It was like he didn’t even know her.
“Is he serious right now?” Shayla asked Liberty. “I should go back and check the fuck outta him—”
“Don’t do that, Shay. Look, don’t even give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to you. That’s what his ass wants. If he wanna play, then beat him at his own damn game.”
Shayla decided to be the bigger person—for now. After lunch at California Pizza Kitchen, she and Liberty parted ways. Since they each parked on separate ends of the shopping mall, they wound up walking alone to their cars. Shayla was a few feet away from her Mercedes-Benz when someone suddenly grabbed her from behind.
Shayla jumped and dropped her purse. Romeo had almost given her a heart attack. He was surprisingly solo that time. “What are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.” She tried to push him off after he pulled her towards him.
“Oh, so you ain’t fuckin’ with me now?”
“You damn right I’m not. I can’t believe you’d just walk past me in public and not speak—”
“I be mad at’cho ass,” he told her. Romeo still was in his feelings
about her messing with Quay, but all his anger faded the minute he saw her. She was beautiful that day in a heather gray maxi dress. The way the thin fabric hugged her coke bottle shape…damn. How the fuck can I stay mad at her pretty, black ass? When Romeo saw Shayla walk out of the mall, he quickly followed after her to reconcile.
Romeo couldn’t take another week being away from her. While Maya was cool to hang out with and be around she wasn’t Shayla. As a matter of fact, she was the complete opposite.
Maya loved bitches and she liked to party. They did have a ton of chemistry, and she was fun to kick it with. They could pop bands together in the strip club, run up a check in the mall, and make it all back together. Maya was essentially the female version of him. And though she was more suited to Romeo’s needs, he still longed for Shayla. Their obvious differences were what balanced him out. He couldn’t let her ass go. Not now. Not ever.
“Is that your explanation for being childish?” she asked him. “I didn’t like that shit, Romeo. It really made me feel some type of way.” He tried to kiss her on the lips but she turned her head away. “Move, Romeo. I don’t know where your tongue’s been. I saw those nasty ass Instagram videos.”
At the time, Romeo was fucked up on Promethazine and loud. He barely even remembered that night. He damn sure didn’t know about the posted videos. He didn’t have an Instagram, and he didn’t keep up with the whole social media hype.
“I wanna put my tongue in you.” He grabbed her crotch and gave it a soft squeeze. He didn’t care that they were standing in a public parking lot in broad daylight.
“Move, Romeo,” she said, pushing his hand away. “You done thottin’ and boppin’ now you wanna be up under me all of a sudden. Gon’ with that fugasi shit. I don’t feel like playing. Go be with your bitch.”
“I’m with her right now.” Every attempt Romeo made to pull her closer, she pushed away.
“Stop, Romeo, for real. I’m still heated at your ass. You were fucked up for that shit you did at the condo.”
“Lemme make it up to you.”
“No, let me go.”
“Quit playin’. You know you don’t want me to let’cho ass go.” Romeo wasn’t the type to tell her that he missed her. And Shayla could front like she didn’t, but he knew she missed him too. He also knew that she had yet to file for the divorce.