Butterfly

by Ashley Antoinette

  Yes, Jhené was singing the desires of her heart, desires she was having a hard time coming to terms with. Ones she still wanted to deny because it felt so wrong. It was against the rules, and Morgan was naturally obedient. She was terrified of the feelings that were attached to that day. They were so inappropriate, but still she kept them locked away inside a chest inside her heart.

  I’ll go everywhere you go

  Aria joined her on the cushions and wrapped her arms around Mo’s shoulders as they grooved. They were the sexiest duo to bless the club. They always sold sex. Always exuded confidence. Cookies and cream. Aria’s coffee-tinted skin against Morgan’s fairer complexion was beautiful, and the way they danced—eyes closed, hands roaming, completely comfortable with each other—was like a spell. They were lethal together. Men wished they possessed the confidence to even approach them. Ahmeek glanced her way, and the girl vying for his attention became invisible. He didn’t stare. Smooth-ass Ahmeek didn’t play his hand that way. Morgan would have never even known his eyes had graced her if she didn’t feel it. His eyes on her was like stepping into the sun. Her entire body warmed. It was a millisecond of his attention, and it felt like a lifetime. He turned his eyes back to the woman in front of him. He and Isa were stars wherever they went, and tonight was no different. Isa sat across from Ahmeek, a pretty, round brown straddled him, whispering in his ear. The smirk that broke out over his face made Aria’s brows lift in disbelief.

  “I swear this nigga is trying me,” Aria said.

  “Fuck him, Aria. We’re young, we’re fly, we’re popping. These people came out to show us love. This is our scene. Isa want to play, let’s play,” Morgan said with a wink. She grabbed Aria’s hand and held it up. Without hesitation, Aria freaked the beat, grinding on Morgan. If anyone hadn’t been watching before, they for sure had eyes on them now. Aria and Morgan were an entire vibe. Aria and Mo left no space between them, dancing so close that their lips almost touched. A show. A damned good one. Rated R, no kids allowed.

  “Stiletto Gang putting on a show in VIP!” the DJ shouted.

  Their two-step was effortless, and Mo turned the bottle up to her lips once more, closing her eyes. When she looked down, she had Ahmeek’s full attention. Morgan and that tongue, she ran it across her bottom lip, then bit it before flipping Aria’s hair over her shoulder and planting a kiss on the back of her neck. She could have sworn she saw him blush. He was amused but tore his eyes away from her, shaking his head while trying his hardest to contain the smile on his face. She loved that smile. That smile made her river rage. She wondered if he could handle her rapids. Inappropriate. Her thoughts about Ahmeek Harris were just inappropriate.

  The tempo of the music changed, and Morgan knew the wrong song had come on. She didn’t even recognize it. It was so old that she couldn’t identify it, but when the energy in the club transformed into aggression, she knew it was an anthem. Aria threw up balled fists and bounced to the beat like she was ready to fight.

  Knuck if you buck

  Knuck if you buck

  Aria had a bottle of her own now, rocking to the beat. They had transformed from vixens to thugs with just the change of a beat. When she set her eyes on Isa and saw the same girl was still in his lap, the fire in her chest intensified. The girl ran a tongue down the tattoo on Isa’s neck, and Aria saw red. “Oh, he got me so fucked up,” she said, climbing down off the couch.

  “Aria!”

  Aria heard Morgan behind her, but she was already making her way across VIP. Her heart thundered when she saw his tattooed hands travel up the skirt of the girl before him. She couldn’t get to him fast enough. Before she could even stop herself …

  “Bitch!”

  Aria threw the glass bottle like she was on third base and she was trying to take a nigga out. Aria was on Isa’s groupie before she even knew what was going on. Aria didn’t care if the girl was clueless. Isa knew better. If he didn’t, he was about to learn.

  “You hoes gon’ learn one way or a-fucking-nother!” she shouted as she snuffed Isa’s groupie, holding the girl down by her hair as she threw vicious blows. Aria may have been little, but she was a fucking bully. Nothing about her was nice. When her heart was on the line, she came to punish. This wasn’t even about this girl. It was about Isa. It was about the way he had shattered her feelings mere hours before. Aria felt something wet on her hands, and when she pulled back her balled fist, she saw blood. Every stiletto nail on her hand was broken. She didn’t care if the blood belonged to her or not; it didn’t stop her. She kept swinging, cocking that fist back as far as she could before connecting.

  “Bitch! I’m. Not. Playing. Games. Behind. This. Nigga!” Every word came with a blow to the face. The girl couldn’t shake Aria loose because all twenty inches of her weave was wrapped around Aria’s fist.

  Mo was right behind her with the assist. She didn’t have a choice. They were one band, one sound-ass bitches. Aria had started it; Mo had to finish. Ahmeek moved to intervene, but Mo snatched out of his grasp.

  “Bitch!” Her blows came next as she caught one of the girl’s friends before she could sneak Aria. It was melee in VIP, but Mo had hands. She hadn’t thrown them in years, but it was like riding a bike. She wasn’t even sure why they were fighting, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need a reason to act a fool over Aria. She was like a sister to Morgan. Even when Aria was wrong, Morgan was riding.

  Whop! Whop!

  Aria felt security grab her, but she wouldn’t let go of the girl’s hair. She yanked it so hard that it tore from her scalp. Aria was the tiniest thing in the fight, but she was roughhousing bitches, flinging the girl by her hair as if she were a rag doll. The security guard snatched her, but before he could even detain her, she heard Isa’s baritone interrupt the confusion as he hemmed the security guard against the wall.

  “One fucking finger on her and I’ma cut your lights off, my nigga,” he said, putting his burner under the man’s chin.

  “That’s you, Isa? I ain’t know, G! No disrespect, fam! I just need them to bring it down. I’m just doing my job. Please, G. Just get them out of here before the police come shut it down. No disrespect. It’s love, god. It’s all love. I didn’t know she belonged to you.”

  “Nah, I ain’t his. I ain’t his at all,” Aria said, heaving as she pushed past Isa. He reached for her, but she pulled away, snatching her arm as she headed for the exit.

  Ahmeek had Morgan trapped against the wall, arms extended around her to stop her. White Boy Nick stood on the cushions of the booth, swinging the wig he had snatched during the fight.

  “I’ma need you to calm down,” Ahmeek said.

  Morgan nodded, but she wasn’t focused on Ahmeek. Her temper was heightened, and her adrenaline fueled her. She was hardheaded, and she was in a mood. A beat-a-bitch-ass mood. She was too busy chastising the opps to follow directions. What was an ass whooping without the lesson? Pointing her finger, identifying her target.

  “That’s what happens when you’re disrespectful, hoe!” Morgan barked. “You and your homegirl out here acting like mutts, sis, so I took that ass for a walk!” Morgan lunged for the girl, but Ahmeek’s hold on her was too tight. Morgan picked up a glass ashtray, tossing it across VIP. “Fetch, hoe! I hear you barking—where that bite at, though? I’m ’bout that action!”

  “Meek, get your bitch!” the girl shouted.

  “Don’t say his name, hoe! Niggas like this don’t choose you! He’s never choosing you! Say his name again and watch I snatch your tongue out!”

  Ahmeek scooped Morgan, carrying her over his shoulder as she talked cash shit all the way out the club.

  When they emerged, Aria was mid-swing.

  “Yo, I promise you got one more time before I fuck you up,” Isa warned.

  “Nigga, I wish you would. On my mama, I will ruin your entire life with one phone call!” Aria shouted. She jabbed his ass again.

  “Aria!” Morgan shouted as she stood on the sidelines.

  “Mind yo
ur fucking business, Mo. I got her crazy ass,” Isa said as he sat sideways on the seat of his bike, folding his arms across his chest.

  “I trusted your dog ass,” she said. “I knew better, but I went against my better judgment because you told me I could. You told me I was safe with you!”

  Aria was a wreck. She had kept her cool all day, but she was just like a teapot, boiling, steam building, and after seeing the attention he got when he walked into the club tonight, the whistle was erupting. She couldn’t hold this inside if she wanted to.

  “You’re bleeding, Ali, com’ere,” he said, wiping one calm hand down his wavy head.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t sit there calm and cool like I’m tripping on you. Don’t act like you care. Fuck my hands; my heart is bleeding, nigga. You are tearing me apart!” she cried.

  “Sex ain’t love, Ali. These bitches don’t mean shit. I like pussy. I get pussy. I like to carry bitches a certain way. I don’t want to carry you like that, so I called one up. Shit didn’t mean nothing,” Isa stated.

  Aria was livid. She marched over to Isa. “Shit means everything!” She lifted her foot and kicked over his bike, sending Isa stumbling. The expensive machine collided with the pavement, and Isa barely recovered, narrowly hitting the ground before regaining his cool.

  “Yooo,” Ahmeek said, swiping both hands down the top of his head while amusement lived in his eyes. Morgan snickered, covering her mouth with one hand in shock.

  Isa and Aria were in the parking lot making a whole scene. Lights. Camera. Action, nigga. Aria was the leading actress. A shit show. Aria was causing a shit show.

  He was on her ass like white on rice as she stormed off. He pulled her arm, spinning her, and before she knew it, one hand was wrapped around her neck. His hands were so big that one hand had the power to squeeze the life out of her, but Aria was fearless. The fire in her eyes dared him.

  “You want me to fuck you? Is that it, Ali? You out here showing your ass because you want some dick? You want me to fucking beast on you like I do random hoes?” Isa barked the words as fire danced in his eyes. Meek and Mo stood among the crowd of gawkers.

  “Should we stop this?” Mo asked.

  Ahmeek shook his head. “Ain’t no stopping this. Both these mu’fuckas got it real bad, and they don’t even know it.”

  “I want you to love me!” Aria shouted back. She pushed him but did no damage. He barely flinched.

  “I do love your little ass!”

  She recoiled like the words surprised her. He had never said it. Not straight out. It was always disguised in something else. Always masked behind another phrase that didn’t allow him to give her power. A way that didn’t make him vulnerable. He had just shouted it out for the world. He wrapped his hands around her face and pressed his body to hers. He was on fire. This display of aggression made his blood race. Aria could feel it, his need, pressing into her as he reached around her body and pulled her into him. Her entire essence dripped for him. She was wet. Mad as hell and soaking wet. Isa sent her emotions on a roller coaster. She wanted to kill him and fuck him all at the same time.

  “I just don’t want to hurt you, Ali,” he whispered. Forehead to hers, he closed his eyes. “The shit I want to do to you … I can’t, so I keep one around. She don’t mean shit, she can just take it.”

  “Take what?” Aria asked, confused, squinting, tears forming.

  “Pain,” he answered simply.

  His words shocked her. He looked ashamed, like he was revealing something to her that he hadn’t told anyone else.

  “If pain is what you like to give women, mission accomplished, Isa. I feel it,” she whispered. It broke him when he saw the tear escape from her eye. Only one, but it was enough to let him know he had fucked up. She walked away, and Morgan hurried to her side.

  “I need to handle something, Mo. Can you get a ride home?” Aria asked. Her lip quivered. She was barely keeping it together.

  “Aria, you don’t have to be alone. I’ll come. I’ll cry with you. We can talk shit about that nigga until you’re blue in the face. You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. I’m here,” Mo whispered.

  “Nah, Mo. That’s you. That’s not me. A nigga give me hurt, I give it back to his ass. Isa gon’ feel me. Can you get a way home?” Aria asked.

  Morgan nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine, but, Aria—”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, Mo,” Aria insisted before climbing into her car and speeding off.

  Morgan looked back to the crowd that had lost interest and was dispersing to their vehicles. She noticed White Boy Nick’s Audi was still parked, and she crossed the parking lot to see if she could catch him before he left. Ahmeek and Isa stood among a crowd of men; they chopped it up as if the night’s events had never happened.

  Ahmeek grabbed her fingertips as she passed.

  “You good?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. I just need a ride,” she answered.

  “I ain’t going back to Flint. I’ve got business down here, but if you don’t mind staying until I’m done, I can run you back afterward,” Ahmeek stated.

  “I just need to text Alani. Check on the twins,” she answered.

  Morgan sent a quick text to Alani. It was never a problem. She didn’t anticipate one now. She received a response immediately. Ethic and Alani practically wanted the twins with them 24-7, so she was free for the rest of the evening.

  “They good?” Ahmeek asked.

  She nodded.

  He turned to the group of men. “I’m up,” he said.

  “A’ight, G,” Isa replied. They slapped hands, and as Isa hugged Morgan, she poked his chest.

  “Fix what you broke, Isa. Like tonight. Don’t fuck her over,” Morgan warned.

  “I hear you, Mo,” Isa stated.

  Ahmeek led the way to his car.

  “Really, Meek? So we not kicking it no more?”

  Morgan paused mid-step when she heard the girl call for him. He turned, and his eyes landed on Morgan first before lifting to the pretty redbone with the fat ass that stood yards away.

  “I can get another way home, Ahmeek. It’s fine,” Morgan said, scoffing. She turned, and before she could take one step, his finger was hooked inside her belt loops and he was pulling her back. He pushed her against the passenger door and placed his hands around her, wrapping her in his arms. A temporary box that trapped her. Morgan rolled her eyes.

  “You want to find another way home?” he asked.

  “Looks like your business is pressing,” she said.

  “That’s not important,” he answered.

  Morgan peered over his shoulder at the girl who was hawking them. “Looks important to me. So let me make sure I got this right. You were going to take me somewhere, drop me off, leave, go handle her, then come back and take me home?”

  “You got it all figured out, Mo,” he stated, a bit perturbed. He had never taken as much back talk as he took from Morgan Atkins.

  She folded her arms. “I swear you niggas are a piece of work.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t lump me in with whoever you’re comparing me to in your mind.”

  “All three of y’all! Whole damn crew. That’s who I’m comparing you to. The way you just run through women. Make promises, break hearts … lie…” Morgan shook her head.

  “Yeah, you’ve got me all summed up, Mo.”

  She didn’t miss his sarcasm. “Dismiss her, Ahmeek,” Morgan stated. Plain and simple. She wasn’t asking, and she was losing patience.

  Ahmeek’s eyes burned into hers. Morgan lifted a brow. She knew she had no right. It still didn’t stop her from asserting her position.

  “Yo, Livi!” he shouted.

  Oh, so that’s Livi? Morgan thought.

  He turned his head to the girl, and Morgan grabbed his chin and turned it back to her.

  “You’re canceled, sweetheart!” he shouted while staring in Morgan’s eyes. He licked his lips and then brought them to Morgan’s ear. “Get your spoiled as
s in the car.”

  He pulled open the door, and she smirked as she got inside.

  Ahmeek walked around the car and got behind the wheel. Morgan rolled down her window and gave a cute wave to Ms. Livi as Ahmeek drove out of the parking lot.

  “You ain’t shit.” He smirked, chuckling as he hit I-75, headed for downtown Detroit.

  “Nah, you ain’t shit,” Morgan countered. “I didn’t owe that bitch nothing. You, on the other hand—”

  “Owed her nothing,” Ahmeek interrupted. He pulled up to a brick building, and a white man opened her door.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Harris,” the valet greeted.

  Ahmeek nodded, and Morgan climbed from the car as she looked up at the building.

  “Home?” she asked.

  “Just a little low-key spot,” he said. “Downtown Detroit is an investment, so I bought a two-bedroom loft.”

  Ahmeek turned to the man. “Keep it up front. I’m coming right back down.”

  Morgan turned to him. “You’re leaving?”

  “I told you. Business,” he said as he escorted her inside.

  “I thought I just handled that for you,” she replied.

  “That wasn’t business, Mo,” he answered.

  They stepped into the elevator, and he pressed the letters PH. It let out on the top floor, and Morgan walked out into a penthouse apartment. He was being humble by calling it a two-bedroom. The entire top floor of the building was his.

  “Wow,” she said. Morgan had seen luxury before, but this—coming from him—surprised her. It wasn’t the fact that he could afford it, because she knew he was getting money. It was the fact that he had the foresight to purchase it. To invest.

  Ahmeek held open the elevator.

  “Make yourself comfortable, love,” he said. “I might be a while. I’ll come back and drive you home as soon as I’m done.”

  She turned to him. “You’re just going to leave me in your crib? I’m nosy, Ahmeek. I’m going through everything.”

  He smirked. “Be my guest, Mo. You’re the only other person who’s ever been here. Snoop away.”

  She smiled as the elevator doors closed and he disappeared.