* * *
By the time Morgan made it to her place, it was midafternoon. After Ethic had requested another night with the twins, Marilyn had insisted Morgan stay. Breakfast had turned to lunch, and lunch had somehow turned to hustling to old-school music in the middle of Ahmeek’s living room, right in front of the big-screen television where Ahmeek sat trying to see around them because he had money on Sunday’s big football game. It had been such a lighthearted time, and the laughs Morgan shared with Marilyn felt natural. Morgan could love a woman like that. Marilyn was even easier to love on than Ahmeek, and Morgan realized where he’d inherited the trait from. He had been raised on love. Ahmeek’s loving nature, no matter how deeply hidden behind the guns and the money and the street pedigree, was innate. All it took was the right woman to pull it out of him. Morgan had no idea how their wrong infatuation was somehow the right key to unlock those chambers in his heart. When he pulled up to her apartment, he placed his BMW in Park.
“No more fighting in nightclubs, love,” Meek said as he placed a hand on the headrest behind her.
“You caught me on a bad day,” Morgan replied, smirking.
He gave up a lazy smile.
“About last night, Ahmeek,” she whispered. She lowered her eyes to her lap and twirled the rings that rested on her fingers. One on her thumb, two on her pointer, and one for her pinkie. Her engagement ring was missing, tucked away in her jewelry box in her panty drawer.
Ahmeek lifted her chin with one finger. “In my eyes, Morgan Atkins. FaceTime remember?”
Morgan could barely hold his stare. “I don’t think it’s wise to see each other,” she stammered. The finality of her words hit her heart like a sledgehammer. “We have no business being friends. I can’t just be friends. Not after last night,” she whispered. She was ashamed of herself for not being ashamed. She was so unapologetic about what she had done with him last night that it scared her. She had to nip this in the bud … end it before it got out of control. She had an entire family to consider.
“Want to know the fucked-up part, Mo?” Ahmeek asked. He moved his hand from the headrest to the back of her neck and massaged the tension building there. He felt it, and just his touch caused her eyes to prickle. Morgan was spoiled. She had never been denied anything a day of her life, but here she was putting the brakes on this. Depriving herself of something she desperately wanted. “I knew last night that it was the end. The end before it even fucking started.” Ahmeek scoffed. “Shit’s wild.”
Morgan felt the tears on her face before she even realized she was crying. She was so attached … too attached. It wasn’t even normal because it was too new to be this potent, but raw dope was raw dope, and Ahmeek was uncut. She was high.
“This is so stupid!” she exclaimed as she tilted her head to the sky and chased her tears with the backs of her thumbs. “I hate this. Let’s just forget all of this even happened, Ahmeek. Everything since London. Let’s just go back to the people we were two years ago.”
“Whatever you want me to do, I’ma do,” Ahmeek stated. “Is that what you want?”
He ran his hand down his waves, and Morgan’s heart plummeted. His brows were hiked, and a mixture of distress and annoyance played on his face. He was a man who was used to having his way with women. No wasn’t a word he knew well, and hearing it from Morgan had put him in a mood.
“I’m getting married, Ahmeek,” she whispered.
“I know,” he answered.
“So whatever this is. Whatever it was. We can’t. It just can’t happen.”
“Only it has happened, love. It is happening,” he stated.
She shook her head. “Not anymore,” she answered.
She pulled on the handle of her door and rushed out of the car, slamming the door. She took heavy steps all the way to her door, hurrying some, because she needed the safety of her apartment, the privacy of its four walls … she couldn’t expose how affected she was. Morgan closed her door and placed both hands against it, leaning over, because she was sick to her stomach. Ahmeek had infiltrated every crevice of her brain, and she might be able to keep him away, but she couldn’t erase the impression he had left behind.
Morgan did the only thing she could think to keep herself from caving for Ahmeek, to keep herself from submitting to the pull he had on her. She picked up the phone and called Bash. She lured him home because she needed him in her face, reminding her that she was a taken woman.
15
Morgan was sick to her stomach as she waited at the airport. The longer she stood near baggage claim, the more she began to regret calling Bash to town. When they were apart, she had freedom. She could be herself. As soon as she saw his smiling face, she felt it being rescinded, like he was repossessing her ability to make her own decisions. With every step he took in her direction, Morgan’s insides screamed, “Run!”
“My girl!” he groaned as he bent down to wrap her in a hug, lifting her. Her feet left the ground for a split second. He placed her down, and Morgan felt guilty because he had missed her, she could tell—and while he was missing her, Morgan had been in the throes of something so passionate it made her blush just thinking about it.
“Where are the twins?” he asked.
“At Alani and Ethic’s,” she informed. “Do you have bags?” she asked.
“Nah, I didn’t pack much. I have an entire Michigan wardrobe at the house here. I’m good. I just brought work,” he said. “Are you ready for commencement?”
“I am. Two years of nonstop work and sleepless nights are finally paying off,” she said. “I’m right out front.”
She led the way to her car, and she couldn’t help but notice that the giddiness she felt with Ahmeek was missing. She had been away from Bash for an extended period of time, and it was like she didn’t even care. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours of being without Ahmeek, and Morgan’s heart was bleeding. He hadn’t called or texted. He did what he was told. He fell back.
“Hey, you good, Mo?” Bash asked.
She shook the thoughts of another man from her mind and nodded, putting on the fake smile she had mastered around him before heading to her place. She should have taken him home to his family’s estate, but she needed him to play interference. She needed him to stop her from losing control of her emotions. Morgan had to be rational. She had invested the past two years of her life into being with Bash. She allowed him to play Daddy to her children, and things had been good … well, maybe not good … tolerable … Things had been uncomplicated for two whole years. When Aria had brought Ahmeek to London, her entire world had been shaken up.
“Yeah, of course, I’m fine,” she lied. Always lying. Always concealing how she felt around him. Always forcing a smile while thoughts of despair swirled in her head, but she feigned normalcy. She faked it because if she told anyone her true thoughts, they would think she was crazy. They would think she was depressed and suicidal. They would overanalyze and control. Ethic would worry, and her family would look at her with skeptical eyes. So instead, she pretended she was happy. A lot of women had a lot less, so certainly Morgan should be grateful for Bash.
They arrived at her place, and as soon as they were through the door, Bash’s hands were on her, pulling her into him, kissing her, and Morgan cringed.
“Bash, stop,” she whispered as she shimmied out of his grasp.
“I know, I know. You got your rules, Mo,” he conceded, lifting his hands. He had no idea the ways in which she had broken those rules. Sex after Messiah scared her until Ahmeek. Now the thought of him touching her body sent a flood through her panties. She had cum three times just thinking about him the night before, but Bash saw no action. It was like her body didn’t even respond the same. Like her sexual language was French and he was speaking Mandarin. Together, they just weren’t fluent.
Her phone buzzed, and she felt like she had been saved by the bell. She made her way to the living room. “Why don’t you go shower? This is Aria; I need to take this,” she said. She
answered, “Hey, girl.”
“Not too long. It’s not often that I get you all to myself. I don’t want to share you with anyone else,” Bash mumbled in her ear as he passed.
“Boy, shut yo’ ass up!” Aria shouted, expressing her frustration with Bash. “Guess your warden is in town, huh?”
“Yeah, he got in not too long ago,” Morgan informed.
“Why did this man show up a day before the show? He probably smelled the fun that was about to go down,” Aria fussed.
“What show?” Morgan asked.
“Vegas! Morgan! What do you mean what show? We talked about this! You said you’d perform,” Aria reminded.
“I can’t, Aria,” Mo said. “Bash is back. We have the twins to think about. I can’t just pick up and go away for the weekend.”
“And why the hell not? Bash want to play Daddy, so let that nigga play Daddy. He can watch the twins while you come to Vegas and do the show,” Aria stated. “Aren’t the twins still at Ethic’s anyway?”
Morgan knew Alani and Ethic would care for her babies. She was looking for excuses not to go. Bash’s presence was already changing the way she made decisions. She wanted to go; he wouldn’t want her to go, however, so to avoid conflict, she would just sit this one out.
“Mo, you said you would perform,” Aria stated. “You owe me. I came all the way to London for your ass.”
“When the hell did I say that?” she protested.
“In London that night at the dance studio. You agreed. The promoter already has your name on the bill. You haven’t hit the stage in two years.”
“Bitch, I danced with you the other night,” Mo argued.
“A club gig is not a show! You can do that shit in your sleep. Come on, Mo! People are hype to see you again; plus, he’s paying. A hundred thousand, Mo. Split four ways, we walk away with a nice little bag.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. It was good money, but money didn’t move Morgan Atkins. Between Raven’s life insurance and the money Ethic had put up for her over the years, she was set. She didn’t have to lift a finger if she didn’t want to, but the fact that she was good enough to command that large of a fee after two years of disappearing from the scene made her consider it. “He’s going to hate this. His family doesn’t like the look. It doesn’t fit their image.”
“Who cares about what they like, Mo? Do you like it? Bash knew you were gang when he met you. Now he has you serving tea and biscuits and shit. It’s like you’re not even the same person with him,” Aria said. Morgan could hear the irritation in Aria’s voice, and she couldn’t blame her because it reflected in her soul. “Fuck these niggas, Mo. You don’t have to change with every relationship you get into. Who are you when you’re alone? When you look in the mirror? The Mo I know ain’t the one I saw in London!”
Morgan knew Aria was right. She had been stifling herself. She loved to dance, but she always hid that part of her while in London. The urge to dance. The urge to be loud, the urge to be herself. She was a muted version of Morgan Atkins with Bash—one his parents would accept, a version Christiana had taught her to be. She was already the girl with two babies out of wedlock. Bash was already accepting children that weren’t his. She felt obligated to be what he needed, what he preferred.
“Go on IG and look at how many people have commented on my flyer. If I show up without you, they’re going to boo us off the set, no matter how fire it is,” Aria said.
“I’ll think about it,” Mo answered.
“Look, I’ll forward you the flight reservation. I leave tonight. Your flight is for tomorrow morning. Be on it, Morgan.”
“I said I’ll think about it, nigga! Don’t Morgan me!” Mo fussed. She hung up the phone and opened her Instagram. The first thing she saw was a notification for a direct message. She opened it.
MURDERKING810
You look unhappy and I ain’t happy about that. You vibrate too high for your smile not to match. Fix that.
Mo frowned. She normally ignored messages from men, but she found herself typing back.
SHORTYDOOWOP
You get all that from an IG post, huh? Does this introspective, I-pay-attention-I-can-see-past-your-smile thing normally work for you?
To Morgan’s surprise, instant dots danced on the screen.
MURDERKING810
I’ve only ever tried it on you. It works because I know for a fact you’re smiling right now.
Morgan felt her face turn red and her mouth opened in shock.
SHORTYDOOWOP
Boy, you don’t know shit and you don’t know me. Have a nice day, sir. And stop sliding in DMs. It makes you seem thirsty.
MURDERKING810
A nigga could use a sip of that.
Morgan snickered, and her fingers were lightning on the screen.
SHORTYDOOWOP
Never happening, bruh. Move around.
MURDERKING810
I’ve tried. I’m stuck on you.
SHORTYDOOWOP
Good luck with that. Oh, and change the name. I hate it. It’s corny.
Morgan clicked out of the message and went to Aria’s page. Stiletto Gang fans were swarming the comments under Morgan’s picture. Her thumb slid down the screen as Bash entered the room, wearing a towel around his waist, his wet body dripping onto her floor. His toned abdomen, Ritz cracker–colored skin, and full beard was more than attractive. Bash was a man who attracted women daily, but somehow Morgan didn’t feel it. No spark, no butterflies. Oh, how she wished for those butterflies with him; maybe then she could keep herself away from Ahmeek.
“What time do we have to pick up the twins?” Bash asked.
“Ethic said he would call, which means never.” Morgan snickered.
“Damn, I miss them. Should we go pick them up?” Bash asked. He walked to her and took her chin in his hand, then leaned down to kiss her. A quick peck, never more, never passion filled, but Morgan still felt his appreciation. She knew he was giving all he knew how to give. His family had bred up a gentleman.
“They haven’t seen them in months. No way is Alani letting them go today,” she said, smiling. “It’s crazy how she loves on them. I fought her for a long time, but nobody loves like Alani. I’m glad that they have her and Ethic.”
“She’s good people. Ethic doesn’t care for me too much, but what father does, right? I’d like to talk to him about the engagement. I’d like to be the one to let him know, if that’s okay with you. I didn’t get the chance to ask his permission, and I’d still like to,” Bash said.
“I don’t know, Bash. I think I should be the one to tell him. He’s my father. He raised me. That news should come from me,” Morgan said.
“You make it sound like you’re delivering bad news, Mo,” he said, worry filling his forehead as lines creased his face.
Morgan took a deep breath. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Do I not give you everything? Do I not do everything for you? I got you into the medical program at Cambridge next year. I help with the twins so you can go full-time. Taking them to class with me daily. My students know them, they’re there so much. You’ve finished four years of undergrad in two years because of me. I believe in you. I’m here every step of the way. My mother has you on the fast track at the finest hospital in London after you finish medical school. A surgeon in the family goes a long way. We’ve all invested in you, Mo.”
“I know. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I’m ungrateful. That’s not what I meant. I’d just like to tell him. I’m twenty years old.”
“You’ll be twenty-one soon,” Bash stated. “And I’m hoping to throw my fiancée a party. I can’t do that if no one in your family knows you’re engaged. You’re not even wearing your ring.”
Morgan glanced down at her bare finger. “I wear it, Bash,” she said defensively.
“Do you even want me here, Mo?” he asked.
“Of course!” Morgan shouted.
“I missed you,” he said, pulling her into his arms, bending so
that his lips were on her ear. Kissing there. “Did you miss me?”
“I did, I did,” she said. She closed her eyes, frowning. She didn’t know who she was trying to convince, him or herself. She knew what it was like to miss someone. Messiah used to leave her for mere hours and she counted every second until his return. Being away from him used to give her anxiety. She would be sick until his return. Hell, Ahmeek had been out of her sights for three days, and it felt like months. It had been two weeks since she’d seen Bash, and she had felt nothing. In fact, she had been relieved to have some separation … some distance because she had been able to be herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him. She did. He was a great friend to her, but that all-consuming love that had seized her heart with Messiah didn’t exist with Bash. She wouldn’t allow it to. That type of love left you broken … it led to dark places, and Morgan wanted to be in control of her heart this time around. She held back and resisted Bash every step of the way. She was lucky he was around at all. His patience was a show of his infatuation for her. His hand flirted with the hem of her dress, and Morgan cuffed his wrists, stopping him.
“Bash,” she whispered.
“I know. Celibacy. I know. I take it that ends when I make an honest woman out of you?” he asked.
“It ends when it ends, Bash,” she answered.
“Damn, Morgan. It’s been two years,” he said in frustration. “You act like I can’t touch you.”
“You can’t. I don’t like the shit, okay? I was raped, Bash. Raped by two niggas, and I couldn’t even say no. I can say no now, and it’s going to continue to be no until I feel like fucking saying yes!” she shouted. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath because she hadn’t meant to divulge so much. She had wanted to scream it since the very first time he had tried his hand at her two years ago.
Shock wore him. “I didn’t know, Mo,” he said, reaching for her. She snatched her arm out of his grasp. “I’m sorry. I’m dead wrong. You’re just beautiful. I love you, and it seems like you’re holding that back from me. I just want to know you … experience every part of you. Make love to my future wife.”
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