Kismet 3

by Raynesha Pittman

  “Hey, I went and grabbed you something to eat from the little spot down the street. It’s in the microwave whenever you feel like getting up. I... um... came up with a little plan for the week too that I’d like to go over with you, and Dre called. He told me to tell you he...” Mike went silent like he was thinking of how to say it, “He told me to tell you he loved you, and he’d call you tomorrow or whatever.”

  He knocked on my door again about an hour later, but I still didn’t respond. I held my breath until I heard him walk back to his room and close his door.

  The next day I was dressed and left the house so silently that I’m sure when Mike woke up, he thought I was still there, asleep. Around lunchtime, I got a text from Ryan saying that Dre had been moved and that it might be a few days before I heard from him. That was fine with me. It gave more time to rub off the guilt of fucking his best friend. I sent a text back to thank him for the update on Dre.

  Ryan had said that he didn’t trust Mike and thought of him as a backstabber. All of a sudden, I felt the need to know why. I dialed Ryan’s number because texting wasn’t sufficient.

  “Hey, Ryan, I’m sorry to bug you, but there was something that you said to me the other day that’s been bothering me, and I need to know why you feel that way.”

  “What’s up?” he asked puzzled.

  “Your ringtone said the story, but then you confirmed it. I need to know why you think Mike is more of a foe than a friend.”

  “Man,” he grunted, “I just do. It’s more of an intuition than fact.”

  “You’re lying, Ryan. I can hear it in your voice. I won’t repeat it to Mike or Dre. I really want to know who I have living with me.”

  “Is something wrong, Savannah?”

  There was a lot wrong already, but I wouldn’t tell that to Ryan. I’d never tell anyone about what happened between Mike and me.

  “No, I’m fine, I just need to know, Ryan. I don’t get the same comfortable vibe that I got from you, and maybe if I knew more, I’d know how to treat this situation.”

  “Savannah, I really can’t give details because I don’t have all the facts. I wouldn’t want my assumptions leaking out and fucking up my friendship with Dre.”

  “Fuck, Dre,” I yelled out, but I had no clue where the anger came from. “Dre isn’t here to protect me from him, and neither are you. I need to know your thoughts. I understand they aren’t facts.” I hit my desk with the pinky side of my closed fist, trying to release the frustration that was building. Ryan needed to tell me. “Please, tell me what your assumption is, or I’m going to decline any further protection from anyone. If it’s my time to go, so be it.”

  I didn’t mean a word of what I said. I wasn’t just going to accept my possible death as an option. But I needed Ryan to feel where I was coming from.

  “Okay, but this goes no further than this phone conversation. If it comes out, I’ll deny it, and I will retaliate.”

  Ryan began telling me a story about Dre and his baby mama having issues a few years back. To make a long story short, Dre had asked Ryan to keep an eye on her while he was gone, but Mike had already beat him to the punch.

  “So, you think Mike and her had been creeping, is that what you’re saying?”

  “It was too sloppy to be called creeping, but you get my gist. I never brought it up to Dre, but he started catching on, all on his own. He confronted Mike, who lied and denied it completely. I should have spoken up then, but Dre had taken the little shit he uncovered on his own hard. Even if he had proof of them fucking off behind his back, Dre loved Mike too much to believe it, and I loved my brother too much to force him to choose between Mike and me on who to believe about it.”

  Ryan still didn’t give proof that Mike had slept with her, but he originally said he didn’t have facts. There was still something in his voice that made me feel like he was holding back from me. “How do you know Mike wasn’t telling Dre the truth?” I asked.

  “I just do. But I have to go, Savannah, I’m at work.”

  He didn’t say good bye. He just hung up. Something wasn’t right about his story and left me feeling more lost than before I had asked my question. I made up my mind that I wouldn’t be going straight home after work, but that I would continue to keep the schedule Ryan had me on with an extra hour or so at the gym. I wasn’t sure of how long I’d be able to duck and dodge Mike, but I would try to keep it up as long as possible.

  My plan to get away from him was cut short because Mike was waiting by my car, smoking a Black and Mild when I got off work. He didn’t let me hit the unlock button on my doors before he started up.

  “Look, Savannah, I know what we did the other—”

  “Can you wait until we get in the car, please? Damn.”

  I didn’t care that there wasn’t anyone around us. There was a place for everything. If we were going to talk about our dirty deed, then we needed to discuss it in private. He waited until we were out of the parking lot and down the street before he continued.

  “Like I was saying, I know what we did the other night was wrong, but hiding from me isn’t gon’ make the shit no better. I got a job to do, and I promised Dre I’d protect you. How do you think he’d feel if I failed him?”

  “How would he feel if you failed him?” I repeated his question in case he didn’t think before asking it. He nodded his head at me, so I corrected him. “You have already failed him—I mean, we have. How do you think Dre would feel about his closest friend in the world fucking his fiancée while he was paying him to protect her? Have you asked yourself that?”

  Mike turned his head and looked out the passenger-side window. “Why would I think about it? He’ll never know because my dick doesn’t talk, and nor does your pussy. You wasn’t planning on telling him, were you?”

  “Of course not. Are you crazy? Dre would kill us both. I just wasn’t sure if you felt obligated to. I mean, y’all are best friends and probably have some kind of pact against letting women come in between the two of you.”

  Mike still wasn’t looking in my direction, but I was looking in his. He shook his head.

  “Naw, I don’t feel obligated to tell him shit. We’re both grown, and we both wanted it, so it happened. You started talking about how you ain’t had no dick, and I wanted some birthday pussy. When you grabbed my dick in the club, I assumed we were going to get down like a business arrangement or some shit. Even the way you said the shit sounded like some ‘scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’ shit. I just didn’t think the pussy would be that good. I know what y’all got, and I won’t step on my nigga’s toes, but I enjoyed the hell out of fucking you. What I look like snitching on myself about the best pussy and head I’ve ever gotten to the owner of it, and who’s to say it won’t happen again?”

  “I say it won’t happen again.”

  “Why? I didn’t mean to say it like that, but why wouldn’t we do it again if we both enjoyed it?”

  “Because it won’t, and it can’t. It doesn’t matter if we enjoyed it.”

  “And why is that? I’m only asking, not disagreeing with you.”

  “Whatever. You just want to hear me say the shit. Okay, you win. We can’t fuck again because if I do fuck you again, I’m leaving Dre to be your girl. That was some amazing shit, Mike, and nobody has ever done my body like that. However, I love Dre, and I can’t let lust cause me to walk away from him.”

  “Yeah, I understand, and that’s my nigga. Our friendship means everything to me. If he loves you like he said to me on the phone, that nigga might put you before our friendship.” He turned and faced me with sincerity in his sexy-ass voice and said, “And you’re right. That nigga is crazy. He would kill us both.”

  Chapter Eight

  Stuck behind Enemy Lines

  I wish I could go back in time and kick my own ass for sleeping with Mike last month. Although I have to admit I felt safe around the sober version of him, the inebriated one was something scary. Mike was fine as long as he only smoked weed.
He stayed professional and kept his distance besides our mandatory outings to work, the range, and the gym. He even allowed me to go on mini “me outings,” although he never let me out of his sight. He gave me space, and no one would know we’d arrived together unless they watched as we departed.

  Mike drunk was a horse of a different color. He became a Gemini with his personality divided in two. This only happened when he had liquor in his system. He went from this quiet, all-business protector to this loud and obnoxious sex-crazed jerk. Whenever he had one too many, which one drink seemed to be too many, he wanted to bring up his birthday night. He’d tell me how sweet I tasted and how good I felt wrapped around him. Some nights, he’d pull his dick out and make it wave at me. Usually, I’d be able to get away from him by locking myself in my room, but that didn’t work for me tonight. He picked the lock on my door as I slept, and I was awakened by him tugging on my panties, trying to get them off of me.

  “Let me eat it, baby. Daddy misses you on his tongue.”

  I was half-asleep, but I knew this fool whose head was underneath my covers was not daddy.

  “Move, Mike. I told you we weren’t doing that ever again. This is your best friend’s pussy, remember him? His name is Dre.”

  Even with mentioning Dre, Mike didn’t let go of my panties. I could feel them ripping away from the pressure of rubbing against my hips.

  “That’s the same shit Tasha said until this dick put her ass to sleep. Stop acting like you don’t want it. Y’all hoes dream about being fucked by friends. I’m just trying to grant your wish.”

  There went the truth behind Ryan’s assumption, and so went my panties. “I’m not Tasha. That’s his baby mama. I’m his wife.”

  “That’s not Dre’s son or his baby mama,” he screamed at me like those words made him upset, “and you ain’t his wife yet, bitch!”

  He got more aggressive in his attack and locked his hands around my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to get out of the grip he had on my neck, but I couldn’t.

  “You don’t have to be scared, pretty bitch. I’m not going to rape you. I just want you to suck this dick and give up the pussy willingly. Can you do that?” he asked, tightening his grip with his left hand as he freed his hardened dick with the right. Using the tight hold he had on my neck to control my movements, he brought my face to his midsection, and then without using his hand, made his dick touch my bottom lip. I had a decision to make, which was to pass out and potentially get raped or suck his dick and be raped consensually.

  Thanks to Ryan’s self-defense lessons, I didn’t have to choose either. I kicked my legs around wildly, which caught him by surprise, and he released his grip. As he stumbled back, my wild kick landed dead in the center of his face. He staggered backward away from my bed, and I was able to get up. Before he could regain his footing and take another step my way, I reached under my mattress and pointed my gun at him. He didn’t hesitate to step back.

  “Listen to me, Mike, and listen well. You need to go and pack you an overnight bag and find somewhere to sleep this shit off. You’ve seen me at the shooting range, and you know that at this distance, I can turn your drunken ass into a slice of Swiss cheese. There will be no more drinking of any kind the rest of your stay here, or you will deal with me and Savannah’s Bitch or Dre about Andre Jr. and the shit you pulled here tonight. You understand?”

  It was the first time in a month that I really got to look at him. When he had his mouth closed, he was more average-looking than I had noticed. There wasn’t anything about him that stuck out or demanded your attention. He had the normal dark brown eyes that looked black, an average-sized nose, and medium-sized lips that didn’t look kissable from all of the weed residue stored on them. His haircut was low with a line, and his style of dress was more uniformed than flashy. Even his height said average as he stood in front of me at five foot ten. What I did notice about him, looking past the fear he had on his face, were tracks of weakness. He looked unhappy and displeased with himself. That might have been why he acted out like he did. You see it more commonly in small children when they consistently get in trouble in search of attention. It was rare to see it in adults, but it happens.

  I don’t know if it was my words or the fact that I had a loaded gun pointed at him, but Mike did exactly as I had said. He skipped packing a bag and headed straight out the front door. Still holding my Glock, I went to chain and lock the door behind him. He didn’t have a key to get in, so I wasn’t worried about him returning, but there was no way I’d be just lying around here after that. I needed to talk to somebody or do something to get my mind off what had just happened. I couldn’t call Ryan and tell him about what happened because, unlike Mike, he felt like he had an obligation to Dre. If I told Ryan, he’d be sure to make Dre aware of it. My supposed best friend Will wasn’t talking to me for whatever reason that helped him to sleep better at night, and my other friend Sandy had been keeping her distance from me ever since she heard about what I did to those people in California. I had Stephanie to thank for telling her that, and for the first time in years, I didn’t have Stephanie to run to either. Not knowing what else to do with myself, I dressed and went to the gym. It stayed open 24 hours, and I could work on some of the self-defense moves Ryan had taught me since I didn’t use them when I was under attack.

  For two o’clock in the morning, the gym was somewhat full. I managed to find an empty yoga room to stretch and work on my self-defense moves. I had worked up a sweat, but I still didn’t feel confident that I’d use any of the moves I had been practicing if I were attacked again. Then an arm encircled my neck. Without thinking, I stepped to the side, elbowed my attacker in the gut, and then flipped him while twisting his arm as he landed on his back. When I went to put my foot into his neck, that’s when I realized it was Amir I was putting the hurting on.

  “Don’t kill me, Savannah,” he screamed in horror.

  At the sight of him curled up on the floor with his eyes closed, anticipating my next hit, I didn’t know if I should laugh or feel bad. I reached my hand out to help him up.

  “Don’t run up on me like that, Amir. I could have killed you.”

  The words felt good coming out of my mouth. Scary-ass Savannah James now had the power to hurt somebody.

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise you. When did you turn into Wonder Woman?”

  We both laughed as he made it to his feet.

  “I’m not Wonder Woman. I’m just learning to protect myself from people like you who like to run up on people when they’re not paying attention.” I pretended to punch him in his stomach, and he acted as if he were hurt.

  “I’m going to my car to smoke after that beat down,” he said, walking ahead of me. “I’ll see you around, Savannah.”

  “Hey,” I yelled after him. “Are you sharing?”

  He nodded his head, and I followed him out of the gym. We smoked and talked for about an hour before he invited me back to his house for an early breakfast. Food never made it to my mouth, but he managed to eat me, that is. It was my fault because I initiated it by rubbing on his dick until it rose on the ride to his house. I was stressed, and the weed wasn’t enough relief for me. I needed to relax the best way I knew how, and that was by having sex with him or Dre. Dre wasn’t an option right now, and if he hadn’t been in jail, I wouldn’t be stressing. I needed instant gratification, and a workout in bed with Amir always worked. Once I got him standing at attention, I reminded him of the rules.

  “Sex only, right, Amir?”

  I could feel his pulse speed up through the throbbing in his jeans.

  “No, great sex only, baby,” he corrected.

  We were tongue-tied and touching every part of each other’s bodies before we made it into his driveway. I didn’t want to kill the mood with obvious questions, but I noticed Amir had moved out of his apartment and into a new house.

  The only question I managed to ask was, “Do you still have a roommate?”

  He shook his he
ad as we pulled into his two-car garage. I walked across the front of his car to meet him at the garage’s entrance to the house, but we never made it to the door. He ate his breakfast right there on the hood of his all-black Benz. The heat from the engine had the hood hot, but the noninsulated garage’s cold air made it nice and warm. When the pleasure ended from his mouth, he put on a rubber and pleasured me with his rock hardness. I was fully naked, and he had stripped down to nothing but his tube socks and gym shoes as he joined me on the hood of his car. When the metal became too much for his knees, he carried me in the house and laid me on his king-sized bed. I woke up around ten o’clock in the morning to the aroma of cooked food.

  “For you, my love,” he said as he handed me a tray of food.

  There was a plate-length omelet with chicken, mushrooms, onions, bell pepper, tomatoes, and cheese stuffed into it. Next to it was a slice of cantaloupe, three strawberries, and a handful of grapes. He had even made me a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and added a slice of the orange on the side of the glass for presentation. I was impressed, but only a little. Amir was a chef at his family’s restaurant. He prepared meals like this daily. After I was settled with my food and eating, he sat at the foot of the bed and began massaging my feet while I ate.

  “When did you move here?” I asked in between bites to break the silence.

  “Almost a year ago. When I took over the restaurant for my parents, I thought it was time to get settled here.”

  I was impressed, to say the least, as he took me on a tour of his three-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath house. Amir had upgraded a lot in the last five years and even had framed articles from the newspaper about the success of his restaurant. I showered and dressed. Then he drove me back to the gym so I could get my car. I promised if I freed up later, I’d give him a call so I could return.