7. Fontaine Jackson #2
“Exactly, I let y’all niggas work your shit out the way y’all see fit. We not doing group therapy about me and Nai. Leave it alone.”
Slim leaned forward. “I thought there was no you and Nairobi. You talkin’ to that new chick—what’s her name?”
“Patricia,” Jelani chimed in. “Ain’t she Nai’s handler?”
“Parker,” I snapped as heat crept into my chest. “When the fuck y’all niggas start gossiping like bitches?”
Jelani shrugged. “Just saying. Don’t be out here acting like you tough when we all know her being back is fucking with your head.”
I ignored the familiar ache that pressed behind my ribs. “Whatever. Tell Sean to holla if something’s wrong with the truck trackers,” I said, already turning to leave.
“That’s why y’all work so well,” Slim called after me. “Soon as shit gets uncomfortable, y’all both run.”
I flinched but kept walking and let the door slam shut behind me.
I was letting myself into Nairobi’s apartment an hour later.
I told myself I just wanted to see if she’d changed the locks, knowing she hadn’t. Nothing about this place had changed. The familiar warm scent of tobacco and cream clung to the air like she’d just left.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat at the kitchen island, and as the minutes passed, I started to doubt myself.
This was doing a lot. Not that I hadn’t pulled this move before, but she was purposefully avoiding me.
She didn’t want to see me, and all I was doing was setting myself up to be pissed off and hurt all over again. But I didn’t leave.
My chest tightened hearing her keys in the door.
“I’m trying to understand how twenty million dollars just disappears between several accounts,” she said to someone on the phone, tossing her keys in the bowl by the door. She dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes, not even glancing in my direction.
“My mother says you’ve been Sterling’s accountant for fifteen years, and suddenly you don’t know where his money’s gone?” she continued, voice sharp. “How the fuck does that work, Mr. Cloverfield?”
I took a slow sip of my beer, watching her pace the living room like she was ready to throw her phone through the wall.
“The man paid you a six-figure retainer, and you can’t tell me shit about shit.” She threw her hands up. “I promise, you really don’t wanna know what’ll happen if I find out you had something to do with these accounts being drained.”
She turned, halfway listening to whatever excuse he was spinning on the other end, freezing when her eyes landed on me.
I held her stare, raising my beer. “Hey,” I said.
She hung up. “We’re doing this again?”
She breezed past the kitchen without waiting for an answer and headed down the hall. I heard the shower running a moment later.
I laughed under my breath and followed her. The bathroom door was wide open, the mirror already fogged. This felt like déjà vu—a scene from two years ago playing out all over again.
“What happened the last time you broke into my house?” she asked, peeling out of her clothes like I wasn’t standing there.
“I still have a scar from that.”
“I should’ve shot you.”
I leaned against the doorframe, my eyes tracing the familiar lines of her body—her back, the spread of her hips that were a little fuller than I remembered.
My dick bricked up, watching her move. I’d had sex in the two years we’d been apart, but my body was still reacting like it didn’t know anybody else. Shit was sad.
“You knew I was here,” I said.
I’d purposefully parked my car near hers so she’d have to pass it when she exited the parking garage.
“You’re not the only person with a black Wagoneer,” she replied icily as she stepped into the shower.
I watched her take a deep breath and let the water hit her face first. The shower was the one place she could put everything down for a minute and just be. I’d noticed it the first time I’d stayed the night at her place.
“You done messing with CJ?”
I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she rolled her eyes.
“Is that why you came?” she asked, reaching for the body wash. “To ask me who I’ve been fucking on? Whole time you been boo’d up with my handler.”
“I didn’t know she was your handler, Nai.”
“We both found ways to get our needs met.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “So, you had to fuck the one nigga that you knew would piss me off?”
“No one told you to be a stalker,” she shot back. “Shouldn’t have gone digging if you didn’t want to find shit. “Why are you really here, Fontaine?”
Why was I here?
To see her? I didn’t even know anymore. Maybe I wanted to prove to both of us that whatever we’d had was harder to bury than we thought.
She’d made it clear in Miami she’d never be able to give herself to me the way I wanted.
But I remembered the flicker of hurt that flashed across her face when she saw me with Parker.
And the hesitation in her voice when I asked to come up the other night.
“I don’t know, yo,” I admitted, pushing off the doorframe. Frustration clawed at my chest. “You right. I should’ve left this alone. This shit is dumb.”
“So go.”
There was that wall again. Her first line of defense.
It was easy for her to dismiss me when I was outside, seven floors below. But now I was here. In her space.
I stripped wordlessly and pushed the shower door open. I stepped in behind her, chest to her back. When she didn’t move away, I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her into me.
“Kitten…” I murmured, her nickname slipping out before I could stop it.
She exhaled slowly, like she’d been holding that breath since the moment she saw me sitting at her island.
I kissed her shoulder, slowly dragging my lips across the back of her neck until I felt her shiver.
“You really want me to leave?” I whispered, my hands sliding up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples.
Her head fell back against my shoulder and the soft gasp that she let out went straight to my dick.
I trailed one hand down between her thighs and groaned when I felt how wet she was.
“Fuck,” she hissed, rocking back against me.
I turned her around and looked down at her body. “This ass got thicker,” I said, gripping both cheeks. “I like that shit.”
“Shut the fuck up,” she breathed through hooded eyes.
That made me smirk. I lifted her and pressed her back against the tile. She locked her legs around me.
“Look at me,” I said, dragging the head of my dick through her slick folds.
When her eyes finally met mine, I pushed in—hard.
“Shit,” I moaned, gripping her thighs.
Her arms wrapped tight around my neck. “Fuck… Bear.”
Hearing that name again was like a battery in my back. I moved deeper, fucking her like I was trying to make up all the time we’d lost.
“Still mine,” I muttered.
Her nails dug into my shoulders. “F-fuck—right there, please.”
I gave her long, deep strokes, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the tile as the steam curled around us.
“Baby…”
“Come for me, Kitten,” I growled in her ear.
“Fuck!” she cried, her body trembling as she came apart around me.
“So responsive,” I murmured, rolling my hips through her climax. I was right behind her—my balls tightened and I buried my face into her neck as I spilled into her.
We stayed like that for a moment, catching our breath. She braced herself against me as I set her down slowly. I kissed her again, softly this time.
She leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, chest still rising fast. I grabbed the body wash and started washing her off.
“You still got my shit in your closet?” I asked.
She cracked one eye. “You staying the night?”
I paused.
She laughed quietly. “I’m fucking with you. Yeah, it’s still here.”
We finished washing up and got out of the shower.
I grabbed a towel and dried her off, then myself.
She slipped into a silk robe hanging on the door and headed into the bedroom.
I scooped up my clothes and followed, stopping at her closet to throw on some basketball shorts and climbed into bed beside her.
She wore nothing but panties, curling into my side like muscle memory had taken over.
“How are you, Nai?” I asked. “For real.”
She sighed, her breath warm on my skin. “Fine… I guess. Is it weird I didn’t really feel anything when she told me he died? But being in that house again…” her voice trailed off. "That's when it hit me.”
I pulled her closer.
“Kenya’s a mess,” she continued. “And then there’s this whole shit with his money being gone.”
“What do you mean gone?” I asked. “Your pops was deep in government contracts for years, plus his military pension. He had to be sitting on something.”
“Twenty million, to be exact. I spent a few hours going through his office. When I logged into his accounts, there was barely two grand left. That’s it. And my mom’s never worked a day in her life—what’s she supposed to do?”
She rolled over and rested her chin on my chest. “I have enough to cover her for a while, but it’s not sustainable.”
“Fuck that,” I said, unable to hide my anger. “What has she ever done for you? She had you, then handed you off to Sterling like you were an object instead of a child. Neither of them treated you like a real person.”
She was quiet for a moment, chewing on her lip. “I can’t abandon her, I’m literally all she has. Her little social circle will disappear when they find out she’s broke.”
I rubbed her arm. “So, what’s next? What you tryna do?”
She huffed a soft, humorless laugh. “I have to find that money, obviously. Shit’s not adding up. Sterling was a lot of things, but I don’t think he’d blow it all and leave Kenya with nothing. In his own weird, fucked up way, I think he loved her. Me too, but he didn’t know how to show it.”
“Do you want my help?” I asked, searching her face. I knew her well enough to know she’d try to deal with this alone.
She rolled her eyes and leaned into me a little more. “You’re here, which means you’re gonna stick your nose in my shit whether I want it or not.”
I chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Long as you know.”