“Well since you and him are making so much damn money, I have a proposition for you. Pay me twenty thousand dollars and get me a house, then I won’t go to the police. If you don’t, I will tell them everything I know, including how her fingers got chopped. And they already saw she was beat the hell up, with a dick in her mouth.” After a couple seconds, she said, “You don’t seem surprised by any of this, which means you already knew.”
“No, I’m just unfazed. You’re not getting twenty racks from me or Tony, so do what you gotta do.”
I was talking big shit, but I was truly afraid. I knew a lot about my man, we talked all the time, and he didn’t fail to mention his horrible track record with law enforcement. He even said once that he knew they were waiting for him to do any little thing so they could lock his ass up.
“Okay, suit yourself.” My mom folded her arms, smirking.
I yanked the door open and rushed out to my car, or wobbled, and quickly drove off. I parked at the studio then called Tony for him to meet me by my car in the parking lot.
Soon as he slid into my passenger seat, looking good enough to eat and smelling just the same, he started kissing me.
“There is no possible way you still find me attractive.” I giggled as he rubbed on my belly, kissing the corner of my mouth.
“I do.” His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he squeezed my thigh. “Pregnant females is usually ugly and sloppy as fuck, but you fine, fine, Buttascotch. Got ya little dress on and shit.” He flashed his unbelievably sexy smile.
“Shut up.” I blushed. “But I wanted to talk to you about Bobi.”
“Who?”
“My mama’s girlfriend.”
“Oh, Holiday Heart.”
“Oh my gosh!” I hit him, laughing. “Seriously though, Houston, what if someone finds out about what you did?”
“What I do?”
“You—”
He shook his head to stop me from talking.
“What I do?”
“Nothing.” I caught on. “But if you went to jail, I would be alone, and then I would be forced to seek revenge and kill people who—”
“Aye, aye! Quit watching all that muthafuckin TV and shit. I’m gon’ be good, and you gon’ be even better. I did what I had to do to protect what’s mine. Anybody who feels like they can fuck with you or my kid while I’m here gon’ have the same fate. I don’ told you I don’t fucking play about you under any circumstances.” He went off. “You get me?” He looked me in the eyes.
“Yes.”
“Back seat big enough if you trying to fuck right quick.”
He was so nasty.
“No, I have to make product. I don’t have time for another three-hour nap.” Looking in my back seat, I added, “Plus, my shit is new, and I’m not trying to get stuff on it.”
“I can nut in yo’ mouth so it won’t get nowhere.”
“Houston, get out of my car!” I shouted as he laughed, climbing out. He came around to my side, and we pecked a few times, deeply enough to make me drip a little below.
I watched him walk away, smiling at the fact that he left some of his cologne behind in my car, and then I pulled off.
I still wanted to go talk to Prince, so I pulled my phone out when I got home to call him, after I unblocked his number. The number I’d dialed was disconnected, so I tried that other one he called me from once but got the same result.
Going onto to social media, I got ready to send him a message but saw I was blocked. This was beyond weird, especially because the nigga was just calling me trying to sing his heart out.
Feeling defeated, I went inside of my condo so I could get to work. I wanted to make as much product as I could before my baby arrived.
I didn’t know how, but I was going to catch Prince’s ass, even if I had to use Isis to do it.
Rahim Cambridge
I’d been drowning myself in my work ever since my damn personal life blew up, and thankfully, that was working for me a little bit. I’d been extra busy due to all the artists Tony had, and I really only had very little time to think about Amara wanting a damn divorce, Shanece wanting nothing to do with my ass, and Phoebe going Fatal Attraction.
Speaking of Phoebe’s ass, I thought the slander on social media was the beginning and end of her bothering me, but it definitely wasn’t. She still blew my phone up, had keyed my car, and a few times, I’d come home to her standing outside of my spot. I honestly didn’t know how to get rid of her ass, and I felt like calling the police or filing for a restraining order was some bitch shit. I wouldn’t dare have her ass killed, so for now, all I could do was hope and pray that she grew tired and left me the fuck alone.
I saw my phone was ringing, and when I read Amara’s name, I almost broke my damn laptop trying to answer it.
“Baby.”
“Hi, Rahim. So I was thinking if we could just make an agreement on our own, this whole divorce thing won’t last long. We can meet up when you have time, with our lawyers, and then—”
“Did you get the flowers?” I cut her off. I wasn’t interested in that divorce talk, and the longer I could hold that shit off, I would.
The plan was to romance her ass, remind her why she agreed to marry me, and I was sure she would call this shit off. Plus, if she was in fact pregnant, she would surely think twice because of that.
“Yes, I did. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I was thinking maybe you could give me a chance to prove to you that I’m sorry, Amara. Come out here for a little while, stay with me, you and the baby, so we can just rekindle.”
“I wish it were that easy, Rahim.”
“It is.”
“No, it isn’t. I need you to understand that the man I thought you were, you aren’t. Not only did you play single, but you were sleeping around with another woman. And clearly you were spending time with her because she had to be attached enough to blast you on social media and inbox me.”
Amara was right, and I wanted to kill Phoebe’s ass every time I thought about the shit.
“Nah, baby, she’s just crazy. I hit a few times and nothing else. She got mad ’cause I told her I couldn’t sleep with her no more.”
“So you think I’m just supposed to be okay with that and take you back? Was she the reason you spent all that money at Sephora and Saks?”
I wanted to lie, but I didn’t know how much Amara knew already. We’d barely talked since she asked me for a divorce, so I didn’t know if Phoebe had spilled the beans about me blowing money on her. The last thing I needed was for Amara to catch me in yet another lie. I needed my family back.
Yes, I wanted Shanece too, but that wasn’t gon’ happen, obviously, and I wasn’t sure if I was willing to lose my family to have a relationship with her.
She was beautiful, the sex was amazing, and I loved her personality, but Amara was my wife. Amara was home, and the first person I thought of when good shit happened to me out here. She was my best friend, and the mother of my child, a woman who’d stuck by me and supported my dreams, even when she knew it would be harder on her.
I hated to say the shit, but Shanece was right about the fact that I should be turned off by how she did her dying husband. Did I really want to trade in my loyal wife for a woman that would fuck around on her nigga while he was dying? I didn’t know.
“Yeah, she was.” I spoke so lowly that I was hoping she didn’t hear me.
“I thought so. And you came up with a whole lie to tell me when I asked. Yeah, Rahim, I love you, I do, but I can’t just go back.”
“Okay. What if we do some type of therapy, like some counseling? I told you my income is growing, a lot, so I can come out there maybe every Tuesday or something. Tuesdays, I rarely have to do anything,” I ran off, praying she agreed.
The silence between us was nerve wrecking, so I took a deep breath.
“Okay. I will find someone, and you can pay. But Rahim, I want you to know that just because I am doing this does not mean that I’m agreein
g to stay married. I’m only going, hoping it will make me understand why you did this to us.” Her voice was starting to crack, so I knew she was about to cry, and I felt like shit. “I thought you were happy—”
“I was… I am. It was sex, baby, that’s it. I swear to you. I had needs, and I tried for a while to hold out, but I couldn’t.”
“Just stop. Save all that for therapy. I have to go.” She sniffled before hanging up.
I stared at my damn computer for the longest, not feeling any better about my situation. I had a feeling Amara wouldn’t budge, even in therapy, not unless I laid on the romance thickly and came up with a good ass excuse for fucking around on her.
I worked for a few more hours and then saved my work before packing up. I was going into the studio because that girl group Tony signed was recording again today. I wasn’t in the mood after talking to Amara, but I had to do what I had to do.
“What’s good?” Abel reached out to dap me.
“’Sup. Where the girls at?” I quizzed, sitting down on the couch next to him.
“They’ll be here in like ten minutes they said. Aye, you think Keyana will fuck with me?”
“Man, focus on the job at hand.” I chuckled before Tony entered, talking on the phone. He slapped hands with us before taking a seat at the mixer to finish his conversation.
“What y’all in here sniggering like some hoes for?” Tony quizzed as he started rolling up, once he was off the phone.
“Nothing.” Abel shook his head.
“He wanna fuck with Keyana.” I blasted his ass. When he sucked his teeth, I laughed.
“So why you not fucking her?” Tony leaned back in his chair. I looked to Abel, waiting for an answer.
“I gotta talk to her first, bro. A nigga just can’t start fucking off rip.”
“Who can’t?” Tony grinned before he and I both chortled in unison. “Speak for yo’ muthafuckin self.”
“You telling me you ain’t never had to work a little bit?” Abel shook his head in disbelief.
“Nigga, how long you known me? Have you ever seen me put effort into a bitch? Only female I ever put some work in for was Camarih, muthafucka.”
“Maybe she’s my Camarih,” Abel replied.
“Just don’t get the bitch pregnant before I can make some money off of her ass.” Tony turned his back to us as he inhaled on the blunt he’d just lit.
I shook my head, smirking at his disrespectful ass.
Keyana and Miko, aka the Gangstar Girlz, showed up about five minutes later, so we got right to work. Shit was smooth because they were on point, only having to do a couple takes to get it right.
By the time they were done, and we were listening back, it was about 8 p.m., so the studio was full. Cornell had showed up, as well as Eitan and a few other homies. That of course caused the hoes to flock, so shit was thick in here, like usual. I found myself actually having fun, just kicking it, getting high, and a little tipsy too.
“Rahim! Rahim Cambridge!” Somebody started yelling in the hallway.
I was lit so it was taking me longer than usual to place the voice, but when I saw Phoebe’s ass in the doorway of the studio room, I could only drop my head into my hands temporarily.
“Come on, man.” I groaned.
“Nigga, I know you hear me!” She stormed in.
“Aye, who the fuck is you, storming in my shit like you fucking crazy?” Tony barked, scowling.
“Nigga, I am not the one! Everybody else may be scared, but I will slap the shit out of you!” Phoebe spat.
Calmly, Tony ashed his blunt and rose up from his chair, towering over Phoebe and halting her in her tracks.
“Bitch, I’m only gon’ tell yo’ ass once to get the fuck up out of my studio. I’ll smack yo’ lazy eye having ass.” He looked down into her face. For the first time, I realized she did have a lazy eye.
“Aight, Phoebe, come on.” I got up to get in front of her. She stayed acting like she knew Tony when she only knew of him.
She didn’t know he’d really clock her ass and not give a fuck. I honestly didn’t care if he did either, but she was giving me enough damn problems, and I didn’t need more. Come to think of it, I should’ve let Tony knock her ass out, hopefully into a coma.
“Get that hoe up out of here. Bitch’s eyelids got hydraulics. You need to handle that shit instead of running up in places you don’t belong,” Tony added, sending the whole studio into a fit of laughter.
“You got me fucked up!” Phoebe slithered loose from me and charged toward Tony.
I caught her ass just as he reached to choke her, but he instead grabbed her hair, which came completely off. The whole room was speechless for a little bit, as my jaw hung open at the sight of the cornrows on top of Phoebe’s head. As long as I’d been fucking her, I thought the shit was real or at least add ins, or whatever the fuck it was called.
“This hoe got a muthafuckin lazy eye and Trey Songz braids, popping shit like she bad.” Tony doubled over in laughter as everyone else joined him. He dangled her wig in the air, as Phoebe tried to break free from me to get it.
“Give me my shit back!” She growled.
“Aye, first nigga to drop this beaver wig shit owe me fifty dollars.” Tony tossed it to Eitan, who tossed it to Cornell, and next thing I knew, the shit was being thrown around the studio like a damn game.
When it got back to Tony after what seemed like forever, he walked closer to Phoebe and me, toking on his blunt, then sat it on her head all fucked up. I think the shit was backwards. When he started pretending to fix it, she blew up, so I hurriedly carried her ass outside as everybody cackled in the studio room.
I was in pain in my abdomen for the last ten minutes, trying not laugh at the stupid shit that just happened, so I needed her ass to bounce so I could get it out.
“Arrgghhh!” Phoebe growled once I placed her to her feet outside. She immediately began adjusting her wig. “Wait until I see that nigga again!” She paced but then paused when she saw me staring. “What!”
“Why you ain’t tell me that was a wig?”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” Her eyes were filled with rage.
“Look, why the fuck you come here anyway? That’s what yo’ ass gets for popping up.” I shrugged, chuckling a little bit.
“We need to talk.”
“Nah, we don’t need to fucking talk! You ruined my damn marriage. We ain’t got shit to talk about, unless you got a plan for me to get my woman back!” I barked.
That quickly, I was heated, remembering Amara’s words.
“Hey, I’m sorry, but I had to teach you a lesson for always throwing me to the side.”
“Phoebe, what the fuck is wrong with you? When I met yo’ ass, I told you I had a damn wife! No way you could’ve thought we was gone end up together!”
“I know! But you kept messing with me, so I figured things had changed! You took me shopping, out on dinners; hell, I figured the dynamic between us had switched. Maybe you can give me a try—”
“No, I can’t. Please, and I am begging you, leave me the fuck alone.” I put my hands in the prayer position.
She stared up at me, face sullen like usual.
“No.”
“I’m really trying not to get a restraining order on yo’ ass.”
“Ha! What a bitch! Ain’t nobody scared of you or a restraining order! I don’t have to beg no nigga to fuck with me.” She started switching off, while I silently hoped and prayed this was the last time I’d see her.
If I could go back in time, I would’ve never started fucking with her bald ass.
I could hear the ruckus back inside of the studio, and since there was no more working going on, I decided to go for a drive.
That drive landed me at Shanece’s place, even though I’d just been telling myself she wasn’t worth me losing Amara. I still stood by that, but I also still wanted her.
“Are you serious?” Shanece answered the door to her apartment. It was late, but that
hadn’t hit me until she was standing before me in a robe.
Per usual, she looked beautiful, and somehow, the braids in her head appeared to always be freshly done.
“My bad. I ain’t realize it was almost 12am.” I shrugged.
“Okay. So what’s up? Camarih okay?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t she be okay?” I felt my brows dip, puzzled by her question.
“Well I assumed that was why you pulled up to my residence at this time of night.”
“Oh, right.” I chuckled, catching on. “Nah, I just thought about you and—”
“Figured now that I’m a widow, you could see me anytime and maybe sleep with me while trying to get back with your wife on the sly.” She cut into my statement.
“What? No. I came to see you because, despite all that bullshit you spewed at me, I still like you.”
“So you like me and want to be with me and only me?”
I opened and closed my mouth a couple times before replying. “I mean, yeah.”
Shanece began giggling, so I joined her because I was confused and didn’t know how to respond to that action.
“So you haven’t been trying to rekindle and make up with your wife, who by the way, you told me was your sister?”
“Nah. She’s done.” I shrugged again.
“You shrug a lot when you lie. See, I don’t have my situation with Paul blinding me anymore, Rahim. You’re on that same bull. I’m here, so I’m convenient for you, but as soon as you get home, you’re a family man just trying to make it for his wife and daughter. If you truly cared about me, you wouldn’t be consistently trying to make me your side piece.”
“I’m not trying to make you my side piece.”
“Okay, show me your text thread between you and your wife.”
“We don’t text much.”
“Then let me see.”
“Man, fuck this.” I turned to leave, already knowing if Shanece saw my texts, she’d prove herself right. It was just me begging Amara to reconsider, to talk, to come see me, or asking if she got the flowers I sent.
“Uh huh, goodnight, boo!” Shanece yelled to my back before closing her door.
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