7. Real
( Two nights later )
I leaned against one wall of the darkened home office, watching the pussy ass mothahfucka in the sleek, black and green gaming chair cry like the little bitch he was. It was a nice chair. Too bad the blood would ruin it. My older brother, Cairo, leaned down into his face.
“All of it,” he growled through clenched teeth, cold eyes piercing Gerard’s teary ones.
“That is all, man! I swear to God. That’s all I ever?—"
Aggravated and impatient, I stepped forward, grabbed a handful of his locs, and bashed his face into the desk. Gerard squealed as Targen chuckled from the shadows. He was always talking about how fast my temper could snap. It wasn’t that I didn’t have patience. I did—until I didn’t.
“You gon’ continue to lie to us when we know the truth?” I asked Gerard calmly.
See? Patience.
He cupped his bleeding nose and lips, shaking his head as he looked over his shoulder to Ghazi for mercy. Ghazi was my younger brother. Easygoing. Quick to laugh. A lot of heart. None of that made him a fool. And when you betrayed him like Gerard had, all of that disappeared. He didn’t like his kindness being taken for weakness.
Gerard and Ghazi had been friends for a long time. That was one of the reasons—that and Gerard’s business degree—that Ghazi had hired him as his assistant. A couple of years in, Gerard had decided the best way for him to make a little extra money was to sell some of the information he’d learned about the sophisticated web of businesses we owned and ran. Fortunately for us, we let very few in deep enough to know too much, and no one outside the family knew all the ways we made money. Unfortunately for him, he still had to pay for violating.
Ghazi walked over and leaned against the desk, facing him. Arms crossed over his chest, he stared down at the man who had once been one of his closest friends.
“Two months, we been watching you,” he finally spoke. “Lying. Stealing. Betraying. You climbed yo’ grimy ass in bed with that clown, Aaqil, knowing he wants to take what we own. After the way I looked out. He would never pay you even half of what you coulda made with us. Silly ass."
“Ghazi, it-it was nothing. I didn’t give him anything that really mattered. He threatened Meka and the baby. He gon’ kill me if he finds out y’all know?—"
“He ain’t gon’ kill you,” I interrupted.
Hopeful eyes flew to me. But his face fell once he understood my meaning. He had the nerve to look confused.
“B-b-but… kill me? Y’all gon’ kill me?” he whimpered.
For some reason, that shit was funny to me. I pressed the side of my fist to my lips but couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as I cracked up. My brothers looked at me like I was crazy.
“Mannn… what this fool on?” I questioned.
Ghazi broke first, a grin crossing his face as he shook his head. I bent over, hands on my knees, as I let the sounds of my amusement escape me.
“Fuck wrong with you?” he asked me.
“His ass crazy,” Cairo mumbled.
“Talking ‘bout are we gon’ kill him. Bitch…” I stood up suddenly, eyeballing Gerard as my laughter faded. “What you thought this was? Yeah, we gon’ kill you.”
His eyes swiveled toward Ghazi. “C’mon, man. I know I fucked up. But I can make it up. Don’t do this shit. You know Meka pregnant, Ghazi. My son won’t even know me?—”
“Good,” Ghazi cut him off coldly. “He won’t have to know his daddy was a fuckin’ snake.”
Gerard opened his mouth to beg more. He almost didn’t see Targen’s huge, scarred figure emerge from the shadows, a silenced Glock G19 in his hand. Almost. The look of terror on his face was revealed when he finally saw his death. And then, he saw nothing.
* * *
Freshly washed of the light spatter of Gerard’s blood and brain, I climbed into my perfectly restored and upgraded ‘87 Grand Nash, one destination in mind. I may have had my pick of women in this city, even fucked on a few, but on a night like tonight, only one would do. I was popping up, but shorty wouldn’t mind. She was cool and rocked with my flow effortlessly. She got almost all my downtime. My weak ass just wanted to be stuck up under her pretty self, something I wasn’t used to. I was feeling her a little too much; I needed to back up and shake it off. But not tonight. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I ever would.
A mile into my ride, I reached out to Targen. He would never admit it if anything got to him, but I wanted to hear that shit for myself, anyway. We’d met what felt like a lifetime ago, at a first-year orientation at the University of Houston. It didn’t take long for us to click, and we were hell in our first two years of undergrad. Shit was a blur of bitches, weed, a lil’ syrup, and classes. We were even line brothers, pledging our fraternity at the end of our sophomore year. Then, Targen went home to Kansas City to see family. When I didn’t hear from him for two weeks, I thought nothing of that shit. I figured he was probably chilling with his cousin, Monica , whom he treated like a sister, and giving them hoes hell. Another week passed, and Monica found me, desperate. Targen was missing. He’d reappeared just as I had convinced Cairo that we and some of his new “associates” needed to ride out, see what the fuck was up. But my friend had been forever changed, scarred physically and on some level that he had never shared.
“I’m good, folk,” he answered after several rings.
“You sure?” I pressed.
“Always.”
I nodded. That was what I liked to hear.
“You on your way to see her?” he asked.
I was quiet for a minute, debating what to say. He knew more about her and my mixed-up feelings than anyone else, so why lie?
“Yeah.”
He didn’t say anything else, and I appreciated him for that. I changed the subject quickly.
“But, say. Don’t be assuming you know what the fuck I might want?—"
He banged on me, and I let out a low chuckle. The rest of my ride was a silent, reflective one. Gerard deserved what he got, but my mama had had my brothers, two sisters, and me in church too much to at least not think about the taking of life. I had no regrets for his shady ass. I knew Ghazi would look out for his son, but I knew little man would spend a lot of years mourning the loss of a life he’d never known. Gerard’s situation also illuminated how annoying Aaqil Saleh was getting. He was a prime example of why I believed in handling certain kinds of problems immediately and permanently.
I shook my head, freeing myself of those thoughts as I pulled onto a darkened driveway and stopped outside a two-car garage. Hopping out of my baby, I made my way to the front door and rang the bell, eyes steadily sweeping my surroundings. She lived in one of the best parts of the city, but I took nothing for granted.
“I’m going to unlock the door and open the garage for you. I’ll be down in a minute,” her soft voice, thick with her southern background, announced through the speaker.
“You ain’t gotta open the garage.”
There was a pause, and I heard it opening anyway.
“Real, not everyone is as understanding as I am that you’re a single man who has every right to do what you do. I wouldn’t want one of your other… friends to see your car and come here on some mess. Anyway, I can see the Grand National. I know you don’t want your baby out in the elements like that.”
I smiled at her words. Look at shorty, thinking she knew me. I had to admit, in some ways, she did. I loved talking to her and hearing her thoughts and feedback. I frowned at what she was trying to do now, though. I wasn’t stupid by far. I saw how she just flipped that shit when the truth was that she probably didn’t want anyone seeing me here. She valued her privacy above all else, as she kept showing me. I could respect it… I guess. But I still felt a way as I pulled my car in beside the BMW I had gifted her. I entered her laundry room from the garage, locking the door behind me. I made my way into the living room to wait. Minutes later, I heard her footsteps on the stairs before she walked to where I sat with my eyes closed, head thrown back against her couch's smooth, dark material.
“Long night?” she asked.
I finally opened my eyes, and something restless inside me settled when I saw her. This woman's effect on me was unlike anything I’d ever felt. She had become my peace, something that wasn’t supposed to happen with our situation. She was undeniably beautiful, lush and thick, from the pouty ass lips on her exquisite face to the full breasts and curvy hips covered by the silky pink tank and pajama pants she wore. Her hair fell around her shoulders, and even at this time of night, her eyes were lined, and her lips were glossed. She never let me see her any other way. It was different, but I figured it was one of her things.
“You could say that,” I said as she went to the small bar in the corner. I watched as she poured a glass of a Glenfiddich single malt Scotch, grabbed a napkin, and brought it to me, setting it on her coffee table. Picking it up, I took a sip, the smooth burn relaxing me even further as my eyes stayed on her while she returned to the bar area.
“You hungry?” she asked as she pulled out a rolling tray, loading it with a grinder, cigars, a splitter, lighter, and some of the fire-ass cannabis I was always sure to leave here. If I had let her know I was coming, she would’ve had two blunts already neatly rolled. I liked watching her do it, though.
“Nah, love, I’m good,” I mumbled, using the pet name I limited to her.
She sat beside me and went to work, her pretty, manicured hands quick and neat with it. I studied her, blown away again by her presence. She was a beautiful, smart woman, a professional, always on top of her game. There were no tears or tantrums when I was here, no ultimatums or sneaking through my phone. I liked that shit at first. Part of me still did. But the fact that she was so… unattached after months of me dropping good dick off in her and taking care of her made me feel some kind of way.
She brought something out of me that no woman had before. I had no problem breaking a little bread with chicks I fucked, but shit with her was next level. Her rent, her car, her beauty routines, her wardrobe—I financed all that and got exclusive access to what I considered paradise and peace—the physical and the mental. It wasn’t that she demanded it, exactly. I liked providing for her.
“Come here,” I murmured a while later, halfway through one of the blunts and patting my lap.
She hesitated for a second, and I frowned. I hated it when she did that. She wasn’t a small chick, but I wasn’t a small man, and I was fully capable of holding her. My look must have communicated all that because she straddled my thighs, pressing the warmth of her pussy against my dick.
“Work was a lot?” she asked softly, stroking my temples down to my jawline. “Look at all this tension. You about to grind your teeth. Let go, suga,” she coaxed.
I sighed, exhaling hard and trying to release the last of the stress. “You have no idea.”
“You know I’m always here to listen.”
“And you’re good at it,” I murmured, turning my head to brush my lips against her forearm. “But shit is handled.”
“If you were involved, I know it was. You really are brilliant, Real.”
This woman was always speaking her belief in me, encouraging me. I loved that shit.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I joked.
She smiled. “Only the really pretty ones.”
I hugged her more tightly, appreciating her attempts to loosen me up.
“I can’t wait to get inside you,” I mumbled against her temple before kissing the silky skin there.
Shorty smelled so fucking good, the intoxicating, floral scent of J’Adore gracing her butter-soft skin. She felt good, too, rolling her hips seductively as I gripped them.
“Really?” she teased, sliding an arm around my neck.
“Hell, yeah, love. Open,” I instructed, tugging on her bottom lip with my thumb.
Her mouth parted as I toked on the blunt, then sealed my lips to hers, blowing the slightly sweet smoke into her mouth. I felt her tighten as it hit the back of her throat. I pulled away and she held on for a few seconds before letting the smoke escape her glossed lips in a slow exhale. Before she could object, I covered her mouth again, this time for a kiss. She tensed for a moment but didn’t draw back like I expected. In the beginning, I’d thought she didn’t like my kisses. It didn’t take me long to realize it wasn’t dislike. Baby girl feared my mouth on hers or anywhere else on her body. She had a thing about control, hated to lose it, even when she was writhing and moaning underneath me. My mouth on her skin drove her crazy, pushed her over the edge. She literally wept my name once as I sucked that sweet pussy. She wouldn’t let me eat it again for days.
I licked her bottom lip, appreciating the taste of her gloss before my tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her more intimately. Coaxing her response, I enjoyed the smooth stroke of her tongue and the glide of her soft lips. I tangled my free hand in her hair, making sure I held her mouth fused to mine, tongues entwining until I decided to come up for air.
Leaning back, I drew on the blunt as I gazed at her lips, wet and puffy from my kisses. I loved that shit, loved when she looked a little less perfect, a little more touchable. She steadied herself, pressing her palms against my chest. Holding her pretty brown gaze, I smoked silently until she leaned forward, parting her lips and inviting the smoke that I streamed into her mouth. This time, when she pulled back, the lust in her eyes was evident. She slid out of my lap and gracefully lowered to her knees. Shorty unlaced the black, Retro Jordan 3s I was wearing and -eased them off. Reaching to the left of her, I ashed the blunt on the little vintage Hermès ashtray she'd brought over.
As soon as I sat back, her hands went to the waist of my joggers. Lifting my hips, I helped her pull them and the Versace boxer briefs down. She slid them off before folding them neatly and putting them on the couch beside me. My dick was already hard as I thought about the blessing her mouth truly was. She wrapped a soft hand around it and smiled. The slow swirl of her tongue around the tip had me hissing, " Fuckkk ."
She kissed it before murmuring, "Hello, Montréal Hamilton."
I smirked down at her. "He said, 'Hello, Evanie Hill.'"