She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest 3

by Shvonne Latrice

  “Wow.” Amara laughed, but I could tell she was disappointed. “That’s repulsive.”

  “It is. I was in a bad state of mind. I was missing you, my hormones were going crazy, and I was thinking with the wrong head. But I can promise you I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Was she the only one?”

  “She was.” I scooted closer. “Amara, I want you. And now that I’m doing as well as I am, I wanna repay you for holding me down. I think y’all should move to Los Angeles now. You can look for some houses online, or I can fly you out to look in person. Any place you want.”

  “With a pool and jacuzzi?” She beamed.

  “All that shit, just like I used to tell you.”

  “That sounds amazing, Rahim, but I don’t know.”

  “We can start with dinner tonight, aight? Let’s just do that and see how it feels.”

  “Okay, but I have to tell you something.”

  “What’s up?”

  If she said she fucked another nigga, I couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t strangle her right here. As hypocritical as it sounded, I wouldn’t be able to deal with knowing she had sex with another man.

  “I got an abortion.”

  “Amara—”

  “I know. I thought about it, and it just wasn’t the right time. I didn’t do it behind us breaking up, because honestly, if that was the only hold up, I would’ve kept it. It just wasn’t a good time for me. I’m under a lot of stress, I just got this big promotion, and Ahmira, who I take care of on my own basically, is already a handful.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re upset.”

  “Hell yeah I’m upset!”

  “Rahim, you only wanted that baby to keep me from moving the fuck on!”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is! We already said we’d have another baby once we were back living together and your career got steady. The latter just now happened!’

  “Okay, okay. Let’s calm down.”

  I wasn’t trying to upset her ass and make her change her mind about going out with me. As badly as I wanted my kid, I knew Amara was right; I mainly wanted that baby to keep her from divorcing me or getting a new nigga in the future.

  “Time’s up!” Ahmira rushed in and toward me, so I scooped her up.

  I played with her as Amara watched for a little over an hour, and then I went to unpack my shit. It felt great being here. I really, truly missed this lifestyle. I needed it back, just with my newfound success added to it. I smiled thinking about how good life would be once Amara and Ahmira moved to LA.

  By the time I was done with that and chilling with my family some more, it was 6 p.m., so we decided to get ready for dinner. I watched, seated on the chaise in Amara’s and my bedroom, as she began to undress. Her silky vanilla complexion was supple, and her body was tight as usual.

  Not able to help myself, I shut the door so Ahmira wouldn’t wake up from her nap, then went up behind Amara to assist her with the sundress she was already slipping out of.

  We hadn’t had sex since she came to visit that one time, and only on the first day she arrived. After we visited the studio and she peeped game about me hiding her, I wasn’t able to touch her ass the rest of the weekend.

  “Rahim.” She turned to me, but I started kissing her.

  Pushing down her panties, I put her up on the dresser and got right to eating her pussy. I hadn’t realized how much I missed this shit until I was deep off in it. She took no time to cum, but I wouldn’t let up, allowing her juices to run down my chin as I sucked her bud. When she let loose for the second time, I came up, unbuckling my jeans as quickly as possible before sliding inside of her.

  “Fuck!” I grumbled, remembering why she had me hooked since the first time I hit this.

  Gripping her ass cheeks, I made her legs spread wider for me as I pounded her shit hard as hell while sucking her neck. Her loud moans only hardened my dick, almost making me nut too soon.

  “Ahh, shit.” She cooed softly, making me lift my head to kiss her.

  Her face was red like it always got when I fucked her, and I didn’t know why I liked that shit so much. Seeing her pretty face twist and turn while crying out made me nut faster than I wanted to, but at least she came down my shaft just before I did.

  “I love you, Amara.” I spoke in between kissing her lips while running my hands up and down her milky thighs.

  “I love you too.”

  When we caught our breath, I let her down off the dresser, and she gathered her things for a shower. While she did that, I checked my email and scheduled some sessions with a few artists whose managers had contacted me for some work.

  By the time I was finished, Amara had walked in, wrapped in her towel, so I kissed her, smacked her ass as she laughed, and then went to shower myself. I was feeling ecstatic.

  I washed off twice since I felt like I’d been in the same clothes for the longest, even though the flight was only about fifty minutes.

  When I got out, I prepared my toothbrush before yelling out, “Amara, I hope yo’ ass is getting dressed because I made a reservation!”

  She always took forever, doing all kinds of shit with her makeup that she didn’t need.

  I finished brushing my teeth and then used some Listerine to rinse my mouth. I tread to the bedroom with my towel wrapped around my waist after checking on Ahmira in her room, but when I got into my room, I saw Amara in her nightshirt, chilling on the bed.

  “I’m not going, and I think you should check into that hotel you originally got.”

  “I don’t think I can because it’s past check-in time,” I half lied. I didn’t know if that was true or not, but I didn’t wanna leave.

  “Well go find out or get a new room.”

  “Wait.” I tittered. “Am I missing something? We agreed to go out to dinner. We just made love less than two hours ago, Amara. What I do?” For the first time, I was genuinely confused.

  Leaning across the bed, she turned my computer toward me with the text messages application up and asked, “Shanece?”

  “What about her?” My voice trembled.

  I’d never been this shook in my life. The emptiness in my stomach I felt, was the same feeling I got when Amara first found out about Phoebe.

  “Well someone named Abel texted you and said, ‘Shanece is here at the studio bro, laugh out loud’.” She imitated a male voice. “So I decided to look through your threads and find Shanece. I definitely did, and I got a nice little read of you guys’ messages back and forth.”

  “Amara— wait! Wait!”

  CRASH!

  She tossed my computer at me, causing it to hit the wall and split completely in half.

  “You disgusting ass liar! And to think for a second I believed you were sorry for fucking that Phoebe bitch! The only reason Phoebe didn’t mean shit to you was because of Shanece!”

  “No, Amara, please—”

  “Asking that bitch to be your girlfriend, talking about marriage in the future, oh, and my favorite part was how I was your sister!” She was crying this time.

  “That’s old. We don’t even—”

  “Old?” She laughed maniacally. “Unless it was before I met and married you, it’s not old, Rahim.” Sobbing, she continued. “I am completely done with you. I’m disgusted. You are not even a fraction of the man that I thought you were. You sat on that couch just a few hours ago and lied to me again. I asked you if Phoebe was it, and you told me she was!”

  “Baby, I didn’t want you to think—”

  “Do not fucking touch me, or I swear to God you’ll leave Vegas without that dirty dick you stick in everybody.”

  Throwing my hands up in mock surrender, I backed away.

  Seeing her so broken up had brought tears to my eyes, and I didn’t know what to say.

  “Amara, I love you. I swear.”

  “Well I have to say, if you didn’t love me, I would hate to see how you’d treated me then. I want you to go before I call the poli
ce. After tonight, do not contact me. I will have my lawyer send you her information, and anything you have to say to me can be said to her.

  As far as Ahmira, something will be worked out, but a mediator or my mother will be the one to transfer her back and forth. This will be the very last time that you talk to or are this close to me.”

  “Amara, please. No. Don’t do this shit. The thing with Shanece is old! It was the same time as Phoebe! I haven’t touched her in a minute! This whole time, I’ve been working, and nothing else!”

  “You told her I was your sister.” She was calm but obviously furious.

  “I know but—”

  When she started shaking her head ‘no’ as tears streamed her face, I stopped speaking.

  “You have no respect for me, our family, and definitely not our marriage if you would tell that woman you just met that I was your sister.

  I’ve held you down for years, going against my parents, who thought I could do better. I never nagged you no matter how late you stayed out trying to find work. I never asked you to get a real job in the meantime, and I didn’t once question your move to Los Angeles. The nights when you forgot to call me, I never complained, and I took care of your daughter while working a more than full-time job so you could live your dream.”

  “And I wanna thank you for—”

  “I’m not telling you this for a ‘thank you.’ I’m telling you this so you can realize that you will never find another woman like me, Rahim Cambridge. And you will forever have to live with the fact that you lost me, and that sometime in the future, I will be another nigga’s wife.”

  Her words hit me deeply as fuck, causing my heart to pound in my chest. Living with either of those she listed didn’t seem feasible at all. I knew myself, so I was sure there was no way I could sleep at night, knowing Amara was laid up with her new man, or even worse, husband.

  And she was right about being one in a million. Most women in Amara’s position would’ve complained or left me, but she did neither. Worst of all was I had no explanation for my actions. I just did the shit, figuring she would never find out, and most niggas cheated anyway behind their wife’s back. Plus, I only planned to mess around while we were apart from each other, in two different states. But that stupid ass shit had backfired beyond belief.

  “Can I just sleep on the couch?”

  “No.”

  Nodding, I grabbed my clothes to get dressed in the bathroom, trying to ignore these fucking tears falling.

  Rubie

  “Shit!” I screamed out when I tripped.

  I fucking hated Eitan. He’d been sending gifts to my apartment for some reason and out of nowhere. After I told him to fuck off since he’d omitted the fact that he was becoming a father, he’d left me alone for a bit. I’d even heard through the grapevine, aka Instagram tags, that he was messing around with some stripper from that new popping ass club The Pink Cherry.

  I didn’t look too much into it because I knew it would have me feeling down, and I wasn’t trying to be cooped up in my room singing sad songs. I had shit to do and needed to keep my focus on my career instead of these niggas for a change.

  However, from what I did see, I knew the girl’s name started with an F, and she wasn’t hesitant at all to let the world of social media know she was fucking Eitan.

  That nigga was confused. One minute he was in photos with his baby mama, looking in love, just for him to supposedly be F girl’s boo. On top of that, he was sending me expensive things.

  Just yesterday, I got a brand-new Rolex, a Birkin, and the most beautiful diamond necklace from Tiffany’s. I was keeping all of that shit too, while ignoring his texts and calls, wanting to know how I liked it.

  After pushing the latest shopping bags sent to my place, to the side, I straightened myself up and grabbed my resume before leaving.

  I’d been staying up all night, into the early hours of the morning, putting together this shit for Tony Wacko. It was nice having my dad pay my bills and give me spending money since I had no job. This whole experience had me kicking myself for not getting rid of Armonn’s ass sooner.

  I got to the studio about ten minutes before the time Tony and I were supposed to meet, so I took that time to rehearse a few responses to questions I thought he was going to ask. While waiting, I saw my phone ringing, and I picked up, not paying attention to the name.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, beautiful.” Eitan sang into the phone. I could hear him smiling and was pissed for accidentally answering. I’d been getting a kick out of ignoring his ass.

  “I have to go.”

  “The homie told me you were interviewing with him today. I’m thinking you should let me take you out after.”

  “Take me out for what?”

  “To celebrate you, why else?”

  “Okay, and if he doesn’t hire me, then what?” I was still scowling. All I could think about was F girl and his baby mama.

  “Then I’ll take you out to celebrate you still. It’s a bold move to take on public relations for all of his artists.”

  “All? Umm, exactly how many of you is it again?” I was suddenly nervous.

  “Just six for now, but he’s looking at some more; gotta grow the brand and make more bread.”

  “Right.” I laughed nervously. I was sweating now, and this Los Angeles heat beaming down into my car did not help. “Well just pray for me.”

  “Only if you agree to go out with me after the interview.” I was silent, so he said, “Please? I bought you a fucking Birkin bag. You know how hard it was to get that shit? Ain’t like you can walk in the Hermes store and just pick one up. I jumped through hoops to—”

  “Fine! I have to go.” I hung up.

  I wasn’t gonna turn down a free meal…

  Okay, who was I kidding? I missed him, and hearing about him frolicking with these hoes had me jealous, even though he’d been pining for my attention on the side. I didn’t know how bitches broke up with their nigga and never looked back, because this shit was tough. It was like kicking a damn cocaine habit.

  I got out of the car, making sure I had everything, and then I entered the studio. I heard a lot of voices, making me freeze for a second and check my watch. Yes, this was the right time. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, I continued down the hallway until I got to the right room. To my surprise, the loud noise was coming from another studio room that I guess Tony was renting out.

  I saw him at the mixer, talking on the phone with his hood pulled up over his head. Nigga had flawless skin. I never understood why God gave men such nice skin, when women were the ones who really needed it.

  I stood there, waiting, and when he hung up, he finally looked my way, brows dipped.

  “Fuck you standing there like that for?” he inquired, pushing out the chair next to him for me.

  “Sorry. I didn’t want to intrude on your phone call.” I sat down. I took another deep breath, taking in his cologne unintentionally. “I’m Rubie Bailey.”

  “I know that.”

  “Yes, but you usually call me something else, so I wanted to be sure you knew my actual name.” He stared at me with a blank expression. “Never mind.”

  “Camarih was telling me about some public relations shit.” He started lighting a blunt.

  “Yes. I would be in charge of the image of your artists, booking interviews, photo shoots, just different things to push a specific persona of them out into the public. Whatever image you want them to have.”

  “Let me see yo’ shit.” He blew out smoke. I was confused. “Yo’ fucking resume paper shit.”

  “Oh, right.” I handed it over, chuckling. I didn’t speak hood nigga, so how was I supposed to know?

  “You don’t have no fucking experience with this shit, so why would I pay you to handle something you don’t know shit about?” His face was balled up in confusion.

  “Right, I know. But I’ve studied the business a lot, like more than people who probably do the job every day.” I attempted
to plead, but he looked unfazed. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” I got up.

  “Sit yo’ ass down.” Not wanting to argue, I did just that, clutching my purse in my lap. “I love my girl, and one of the reasons I love her ass is because she got my back.”

  “Yep.” I didn’t know where this was going.

  He inhaled on his blunt and leaned back. “So I know she wouldn’t ask me to fuck with you if she felt yo’ ass was fruitless. So how this is gon’ work is, you gon’ be side-by-side with the PR person we’re using right now. They work for Paramount. Depending on how that shit go, we can see about you working for my label on yo’ own.”

  “Oh my gosh! Yes, I don’t mind. I’ll even do it for free!”

  “Yeah, you will. When you prove to be an asset, money can be put into rotation, but for now, it’s best you be on some intern shit. ’Cause if I pay up and you fuck up, friend of my girl’s or not, I’m putting the paws on yo’ ass… aka slapping yo’ ass the fuck up.”

  “Your signature.”

  “Exactly. Someone will be in touch.”

  “Okay, and thank you so much, Tony!” I got up from the seat, feeling overly joyful.

  “Shut the door behind you, DSL.”

  And just when I thought we had gotten past that stage.

  Like he’d requested, I closed the studio door behind me and damn near skipped my ass out. Once in the car, I whipped out my iPhone and sent a few texts; one to Camarih, my father, and then Eitan.

  I knew damn well I should have left Eitan alone, but like I said… it was hard. Hearing his voice and remembering his kisses, the sex, and just how good it felt to hang out with him was hard to forget.

  Eitan: Congrats baby. Is 8pm good? I’m gon’ pick you up.

  Me: Sure.

  I drove right over to Camarih’s so we could hang out for a bit and celebrate. She’d invited Shanece, which I didn’t mind, because she was really nice despite having gone through such a horrible event.

  By the time I’d left Camarih’s condo, it was 6:30 p.m., so I sped home to shower. I brushed my teeth and then got dressed in a yellow number that showed off my figure. Yellow was a chocolate girl’s best friend; all Black women’s best friend, actually.